K-A World on Fire
by InfinitNei
Summary: She was wind and fire, and flames didn't whimper, they roared. Like a mighty lion filled with pride and purpose, she was a hunter. She didn't have time for tears, but they drained thick like oil over her cheeks, and when they passed by the volatile catalyst that she was intent on defending from the unforgiving cold, they ignited.
1. Kermes

**Kermes**

* * *

_**December 8th, 2012**_

_Everything I touch... falls to misfortune._

The pressure was building, and she could feel it most aggressively in the back of her throat. Neirah raised her hand to her pulse, grasping at its race like she might have intended on gouging it from beneath her skin. Choking. She was choking as reality's claws gagged her to the sight of the ruby bead at her throat shattering into tiny refractive shards. Screams caught in her chest, forcing her to claw at the mark on her breast in hopes that it would ventilate some of the pressure that made her feel like she would burst.

A lurch threatened an unsteady upheaval of her stomach's contents all over the beach beneath feet that she couldn't comprehend were below her. Luckily, it only caused a shuddering exhale to tremor when it broke past lips that had chapped from the panting to leave her parched. Congested words burbled with the presence of tears as she tried to force down the despair. Anguish glossed over her wild azure gaze as she stared through the crumbling earth where a light dusting of grass met the golden sand of the beach at her back. Soon, the overwhelming psychosis made her feel unsteady as she watched the ground crumble from under her feet entirely. Neirah half-expected to fall next, but she was feeling far too light to slip. It was like she had ascended above mortal ties and become one with flame.

_Cold_.

She clasped her hands tight to her arms, her fingers sinking into the leather of her jacket, and causing it to whine for mercy beneath the pressure of crimson nails. Her gaze grew impossibly fuller as she watched her hot breath heave increasingly more opaque clouds in front of her face with her heavy gasps. She felt it bubbling to the surface, like magma in her blood, and soon, dark blotches were marking her devastation in the sand. Tears boiled over in her eyes, wetting the ground quietly as she tried to hold back the agonized wails that persisted in echoing in her ears. Despite the frosty nip in the cold December air, her skin was beginning to sweat... and it was… so cold.

_This world... is so..._

She felt weightless even as she struck her knees, like the pins and needles shocking numb thighs hadn't existed. She kept her fingers locked in her jacket, her arms folded over her chest like she was protecting her heart as the void expanded, making her feel like her skin and bones were peeling away. It was there, a spark, a tiny reminder that she had loved. That was what the ravenous claws were after while they dug through flesh and flame. It was that bright seed of hope resonating beneath her breast, her crumbling world. But she wouldn't let them take it, that smile. "Stay away..." The words were nearly inaudible as she tried to keep from blubbering while speaking, drowning her broken tone in sorrow.

She was wind and fire, and flames didn't whimper, they roared. Like a mighty lion filled with pride and purpose, she was a hunter. She didn't have time for tears, not now. But they rolled thick like oil over her cheeks, and when they passed by the volatile catalyst that she was intent on defending from the unforgiving cold, they ignited. Tears were kerosene to her passion, fuel to feed the intensity of her blaze. _'Burn,' _she heard her thoughts repeat. _'Burn, burn-'_ Until they hissed and sputtered to life on her lips. "Burn it all."

_Why?_

As the pain burrowed and upturned chaos within her, the anger started to take control of her conscious mind. The world disgusted her. She could feel it's cold, unfeeling cackle roll in on the waves at her back, moaning through the leafless branches of the trees, reminding her that this was her fate from the start. The sudden impact of realization to beat her caused a devastating bark to relieve the pressure in her aching lungs. Her touch didn't alter the destinies of others. She was the one fated for despair.

The dynamic flicker flashed a faint red glow behind her tightly sealed eyelids like it had a hundred times before, but this time was different. It was visceral, like an instinct kicking in as her teeth chattered in the frost-bitten wind. She wondered how cold someone had to be to freeze and then if it was even possible for Japan to sink to such a temperature. But she was immobilized by the ice in her soul. Her flames swelled, brighter, hotter. They grew as they sensed the impending danger of sub-zero, pulsing in waves from her trembling body like they had never done before. Still, she shivered despite the intensifying heat threatening to liquify the ground she couldn't comprehend remaining. Even hotter, they burst in all directions with every throb of her pulse.

_Why_?_ Why can't it just burn?!_

Hotter. It poured out of Neirah's resonating core, and panic flooded her petrified gaze as she watched her world turn red in a way she had never seen it before. Salivation, sweat and tears draining over her face made her feel like she was melting, and leaking jaws finally snapped. "Stay away!" She didn't know who she was talking to, the claws at her throat or another otherworldly force. Her agonized wail was shrill and filled with terror, filled with anguish that she had never known. Everything was red, a red thick like the blood that spilt early that morning. The blood was hers. It was theirs.

_Burn!_

The pain began to twist inside her, coiling around her light, the smile kept deep in her heart. It wove the molten fragments of her earthly body like a tapestry stained with horror and hurt as she reconstructed. The cremated path that had fallen out from beneath her had begun to rebuild as her fire raged. Hotter. She was still cold. Brighter. It was so dark without that smile in her world. Protect it. She clutched herself tighter until she thought her bones would break. "Please don't go..." A silent plea in a dark, frosty void where her ears echoed with the sound of a racing heartbeat against her sticky brow. "Don't let me go..."

_…Please…_

_Burn with me_

_..._

* * *

_**April 14th, 2009**_

"We're back!"

Izumo raised his eyes from beneath his bangs to where his bar door swung open, HOMRA's newest recruits announcing their presence as enthusiastically as ever. At least one of them was always pretty enthusiastic about stepping into their midst. The other one seemed to have some apprehensions, but he remained relatively content in his rowdy friend's company. "Welcome back, you two," he declared in a chipper hum. "Heard you took care of some shady dealings the other day. Saved me the trouble of havin' to send out our hunter."

Misaki thrust out his arm at a ninety-degree angle, resting his opposing hand over his flexed bicep. His wicked and eager smile flashed his confidence as he postured bravely in front of their superior. "Leave it to us, Kusanagi-san! We took care of them, no problem!" He turned to face Saruhiko at his back, his smile broadening. "Nobody's gonna mess around in Mikoto-san's territory. We'll make sure of it." He offered his friend an encouraging thumbs-up. "Right, partner?"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko diverted his gaze to dismiss his interest in the subject, and his face grew sour. "It was a way to pass the time."

Misaki threw his fists up with a delighted cheer. "Hell yeah, it was!"

Izumo snorted his amusement and laid his hands flat against the rosewood bar top. He'd never seen a clansman quite so eager to please join their ranks, and he didn't want to let their effort go unpraised. "Nevertheless, I appreciate it," he admitted keenly. "That kid's constantly ridin' my ass about sendin' her out on a school night, so it was mighty convenient that you two just happened to stumble across that deal."

"Girls shouldn't be picking fights in dark places anyways," Misaki dismissed with the flap of his hand. He closed his eyes and turned away with a smug expression on his face. "Just leave all the hard stuff to us. She can like, paint her nails and stuff. I dunno. Whatever girls do."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't talk about me like I'm not in the room."

Misaki let out a terrified squeak that made the entire room question whether Neirah was the only woman in their midst. "Shi- Ts-Tsukiyo?! W-w-when did you get here?"

Neirah's intense leer hadn't blinked once she had the staggering youth locked in her sights. "Didn't you know? I was here long before you," she drawled seductively in caution. "Remember that when you're getting high off of your successes. I'll always be just that many ahead."

Her words were so dark and filled with malice that Tatara shivered on the couch alongside her. He snickered boyishly and steadied her tapping toes as they twitched with irritation in his lap. A cat's tail might have done the same thing if it was angry. "Lion-chan, stop fussing," he chided. "You're making this really difficult. I'm almost done, so just stay still for a minute, okay?"

Neirah sighed and finally released the seized Misaki from her gaze. She steadied her toes in Tatara's hands and allowed him to continue painting them for her. "I would fuss less if it wasn't so noisy in here." She turned her head, resting her chin in her palm from the arm of the couch. "Those pills I took may as well have been PEZ. I feel like my head is splitting open."

"That's not gonna help," Izumo assured her sternly. "You still have homework to do. I didn't get you into a better school to see you waste this chance, so you'd better keep your marks up."

Neirah heaved a musical moan of impatience. "Onii-san, just once, I wish you'd get off my back," she droned in dismay. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't do numbers without Dewa-kun?"

He cocked a brow with a roguish smirk. "Why don't you tell me again and see if it helps?"

She groaned her defeat, tugging her bare foot out of Tatara's grip the moment he screwed the cap back on her ruby nail polish. She rose, careful to arch her feet and walk on spread toes so she wouldn't disturb the drying acrylics as she crossed the room. Upon passing, her transient gaze locked with Misaki's, a playful warning flashing red in the depths of a sapphire sea. She couldn't help but smile as he remained rooted in place, too unnerved to say anything in retort to words she never actually spoke.

Izumo watched her take a seat, his hard gaze fixed as he flipped open her textbook before returning to the glass he was drying. "There. You had your little break, and now I don't want to catch you movin' that scrawny butt of yours until you're done. You hear me?" Figuring the words she was preparing to contest him with involved Masaomi's absence, he quickly interrupted her train of thought. "And before you say anything else, I'll just have you know that if I catch Dewa doing your assignments for you again, you're both dogmeat."

Neirah diverted her guilty gaze but didn't try to defend herself to his sharp discovery. It wasn't that she prided herself on being deceitful. It wasn't easy to pull the wool over Izumo's eyes. She had learned that the hard way time and time again. "It's true that he's talented when it comes to these things, but I don't really learn a lot when he's talking," she murmured meekly. "And math marks are pretty important to this school. It's hard to make it up in language or P.E. Even social studies are becoming a pain, and that was something I used to excel at. But math... well..."

"And that's why we're here," Izumo reasoned soundly. "It won't be such a nuisance to do it once you figure it out for yourself. If you want to make it into college, you're going to have to stay on top of your game. Let's start this year off right, shall we?"

There was a long pause that she had kept her thoughts to herself, but after a moment of contemplation, she ended up sharing anyways. "But... Dewa-kun can still _help,_ though, right?"

Izumo narrowly stifled his impatient growl. "Neirah."

"Ah! Fushimi! W-what- what are you doing?!" Misaki stammered. "D-d-don't go over there!"

Neirah seemed interested when their youngblood seated himself beside her, pulling the textbook away like a child who didn't want to share his toys. The thought had caused her brow to knot. She hadn't had a lot of experience with their newest additions outside of the uproar to ensue a few weeks prior, involving SCEPTRE4 and Anna. Despite their misgivings the night she first met them, she respected their abilities as clansmen and respect was essential for Neirah to base the construction of relationships. Admittedly, it had been simpler for her to appreciate the one who could hold a somewhat intelligible conversation with her, but his stammering counterpart wasn't without his charms.

Despite the pressure of Neirah's leering, Saruhiko gave the document in front of him a quiet once-over in consideration before raising his calculated glare to hers. "Have you always struggled with math?"

She didn't shy away from his audacity, nor did she feel embarrassed to own up to his perceived truth. "Have you always struggled with grasping the obvious?"

_Tsk_. He quietly closed the textbook and then grabbed her assignment, considering that as well. She was a straight-forward kind of woman. It was clear to him that she lacked a fundamental understanding of basic equations, leading her to struggle as the years progressed and more complicated problems added onto those scattered building blocks. "Do you want to learn, or do you want to skirt by on the fact that you're a woman for the rest of your life?"

Misaki's stifled squeal hissed between his teeth like steam from a kettle alerting you that it had boiled. "S-Saru... D-don't say s-stuff like t-that!"

Although he could act brazenly at times, it was no secret that Misaki caught a chill with the passionate danger lingering in Neirah's expressive eyes. The stories his clansmen passed along soon after they joined hadn't helped, and he knew that when Izumo needed somebody to sever ties in the underworld quietly, the Red Lioness dispatched. There was a discomforting air of mystery and suspense as she stalked about with observant eyes absorbing the world around her. Her triggers were still unknown to him. She could be a harmless kitten batting yarn balls around the bar floor with the members she was closest with, but at any moment, he felt like she could combust.

Despite what the room, and Misaki, thought was going to happen when Saruhiko uttered his frigid quip, an unlikely smile surprised them all by curling her lips. She had taken more insult in the degradation of her friend than she had herself, which was typical of her in recent days. Their clan continued to grow, but she held tight to members who were with her since the beginning. "You think you can do a better job than Dewa-kun?"

Saruhiko's static gaze hadn't retreated from the intensity of hers. "I know I can."

Izumo humbled by the sight of Neirah's regard dropping to the intensity of someone else's for a change. The upset had his expression twisting with astonishment. "Well, I'll be... There's somethin' you don't see every day."

From nearby, Mikoto rumbled his low agreement. "I hope Totsuka didn't catch that, or we'll never hear the end of it."

"Fushimi." She paused for a moment to recall Misaki's address. "Saruhiko, right?" She smiled when he didn't bother raising his gaze from her lesson plan to acknowledge her accuracy. "You're a rather brazen fellow, aren't you?"

"Fear is a vulnerable state of mind," he educated calmly. "I don't find you intimidating in the slightest."

Neirah's expression softened as she recalled her recent reconstruction. At the beginning of the calendar year, her two worlds crumbled and forged something sturdier. The nightmares had stopped, and it had been a while since she felt burdened by guilt. A fond challenge sparked within her to consider his casual approach to something that, not long before, had altered her fate entirely. "So, someone with a strong mind should be able to conquer it easily, is that right?"

There was a long pause before he finally answered in a small voice. "Exactly."

She wasn't made of stone. But Neirah's mind hadn't broken through the ups and downs of a rocky past. Instead, she'd traversed the mountain, camping among its peaks and valleys with her friends by her side. When they finally reached the top, they drew magma from its depths and made it their own. _Convincing_ herself that she wouldn't be afraid, well, that was a pretty thought.

"Sound and simple logic," she murmured in song. "I refute the entire base of your argument." She snickered lightly and flipped through some pages of her assignment while he prepared his lesson. "But we can disprove each other's theories later, no? See, that's something I quite excel at."

"I'm going to help you understand what's in this book because it's annoying listening to you cry for Dewa's help every time you have math homework."

"Hmn, not exactly my idea of a stimulating first date."

It was quite evident that Saruhiko was already losing his patience with the busty brunette and her feigned charms. Unlike the rest of his fellow clansmen, he had most undoubtedly developed an immunity. "It's not a date."

"H-h-he's talking to her. S-she's t-talking to him." A fearful Misaki anticipated that at any moment, Saruhiko would call him in to save him from the lioness' wrath, mainly because of how he had been addressing her. But no such plea ever came. He whirled to face where Tatara had snuck by him, both hands falling on Misaki's shoulders as he lowered his bright smile next to the boy's face.

"Who would have thought those two would get along so well?" Tatara met Misaki's nervous expression head-on. "See? She's not so bad once you get to know her."

"With the state I've seen her come in through those doors on occasion, Yata-chan's fear is justified," Izumo refuted.

Tatara could feel Misaki tense beneath his palms as he straightened and turned his scornful gaze toward the bartender. "Kusanagi-san is being dramatic. We all have those days and some more than others."

"And some none," Izumo sassed their unconfrontational companion.

"Exactly!"

Misaki apprehensively ground his teeth together and diverted his gaze. "You guys aren't helping at all..."

Tatara watched the mopey boy shake free of his hold and pass towards the bar, finally taking a seat in front of Izumo. When he did, Tatara joined him. They sat in silence for a bit while Misaki hid his pouting in his folded arms. Knowing that he likely wouldn't appreciate the comparison, Tatara withheld the need to announce that his actions were pretty similar to Neirah's when she was jealous.

"You know, she's not that hard to talk to," he mused thoughtfully. "She's actually pretty sweet deep down."

Izumo snickered. "Yeah, real deep."

Tatara whirled to face Izumo's menacing intrusion. "Kusanagi-san, stop helping."

Misaki rolled his head to the opposing side of Tatara with a bitter snort. "She creeps me out." Unfortunately, when he had flopped over to avoid Tatara's prying, he had managed to lock his gaze on the sight of the woman putting forth legitimate effort to learn from Saruhiko. It was probably the only reason Saruhiko was still tolerating her presence. Misaki's attention shifted to where Rikio and Saburōta walked into the bar, his last nerve strained.

"Nē-chan! You're here early!" There was almost an accusation in Rikio's booming tone. He popped his balled fists on his hips like he was waiting for an explanation, and even beneath his sunglasses, she caught signs of annoyance on his face. "Why weren't you in class?"

Neirah blinked back at the seemingly agitated pair with a deep furrow in her brow. "Afternoon classes were cancelled." They seemed to be overcome with guilt in an instant as Saruhiko's gaze tapered incredulously. Neirah wasn't long in mirroring his effort. "Wait- How did you two know I wasn't in class?"

Not that anyone would have noticed, but Saburōta diverted his gaze bashfully to avoid the intensity of her curious leer. "Kamamoto thought that it might be nice to pick Onē-san up from school today."

Rikio whirled to face him with a visible dusting of pink in his cheeks as he denied exclusive involvement. "Oi! You thought it was a good idea too!"

"I just thought that Onē-san always walks here on her own, and maybe she might like some company!"

"And that's why we went, dumbass!"

_Rrr…_ Misaki slammed his fists on the bar and climbed out of his seat with a furious howl. "Cut it out!" He whirled to face the pair lividly, waving his accusing finger towards them with eccentric energy. "Nē-chan this! Onē-san that! Half of you are older than she is, so why does everyone call her that!?"

Rikio rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, that? I guess it's been that way for so long that I can't really remember."

Saburōta considered the recollection intently for a moment. "Didn't Chitose start it after that whole 'incident' back in 2008?"

Rikio shook his head. "Nah, I thought it had something to do with Totsuka-san. But, now that I think about it, it did kind of flare-up around that time, huh?"

"I wasn't even here, and I know that much." Saburōta folded his arms over his chest and nodded swiftly. "Besides, Onē-san is technically older than I am by five whole months, so I'm in the clear." He retreated to the pressure of Misaki's livid roar.

"She's not your sister!"

"Who, Onē-san?"

"Stop saying that, damn it!"

Neirah sighed and pushed her fingers through her bangs. "Bandō, baby, I told you not to be so formal. It makes me uncomfortable."

Misaki twitched with outrage. "D-did she just call him-?"

Izumo sniggered impishly across from her, cutting his menacing sneer her way. "Doesn't that sound familiar coming from the woman who still refers to Mikoto as _King-sama_." His smile remained broad even as Mikoto rolled his eyes in the background, huffing a bitter snort to the consideration. "Trust me. He definitely doesn't deserve that one either."

"Thanks," Mikoto ground bluntly. He climbed to his feet like he needed a good stretch before turning to saunter towards the exit. "I'm going for a walk. You can settle this on your own." He tipped his gaze to the side curiously when he felt a tiny hand wrap around his forearm before it disappeared into his denim pockets. "Hm? You're coming too?"

Anna's response was to gently nod her head in agreement before following close to his side without making eye contact.

"Ehn, alright, then. That's fine, I guess."

Izumo snorted towards the interruption before rekindling the battle he'd begun with their frisky hunter. "Anyways, that's karma for you."

Neirah turned up her nose with a curt scoff, half-tempted to chase after her king as well. "Onii-san, I don't need this from you right now."

Saruhiko slowly climbed to his feet and dismissed himself from the conversation with a bitter snort. "Gross."

"See?" Tatara encouraged enthusiastically. "Fushimi-kun doesn't have a hard time expressing himself in front of girls."

"Don't overly familiarize yourself with me."

A bead of perspire slipped down Tatara's temple. "Or anyone, apparently."

Rikio approached his fuming friend and put his hand on Misaki's shoulder with a faint smile. "Come on, Yata-san. I know she's a girl, but can't you two just get along?"

To vent some of his frustrations, Misaki leapt up and threw his arm around Rikio's neck, knocking the man off balance until he could lock him in a more manageable position. "No way! Saruhiko's right! Being a girl doesn't make her special!"

Rikio struggled in a futile effort to pry the smaller stature man off of his shoulders. "I didn't say that, though!"

"What a hypocrite," Izumo groaned. "He says that, but he seems to like Anna just fine." He growled lightly before raising his voice and waving his hand out towards their display. "Alright, that's enough, you two. Take it outside." The way his warning went unheeded caused his blood to boil, and when Neirah had floated by like she was innocent in the matter, he snapped. He reached out over the bar and grabbed hold of her collar to keep her from retreating. "I don't think so. You started this. Fix it."

Neirah growled at him and shooed his touch away from where it had interrupted her retreat. "By being a girl?"

"Don't get smart."

"First it's _do your homework_. Then it's _scout this old warehouse_. Now it's _break up the boys_."

"I just know what you're capable of," he interjected matter-of-factly.

Her gaze tapered. "You're never satisfied."

"Big sisters break up fights," Izumo reminded her sourly. "Mikoto isn't here, and I'm sure as hell not throwin' Totsuka in the middle of that." He adjusted to where he observed Saruhiko casually sipping on his soda. "And Fushimi-"

"It's got nothing to do with me."

Izumo responded to the detached man's lack of enthusiasm by bowing his head and offering his limp hand in that direction. "See? I'm in a corner here."

Tatara smiled brightly and swivelled in swift half-circles from his seat. "I mean, I could try but-"

"No," Izumo and Neirah snapped simultaneously.

Neirah heaved a heavy sigh and gave a comfortable stretch. "For the record, if you don't want him to resent me, you probably shouldn't send me to subdue him in the future."

"I'll consider it if my bar survives this time," Izumo grumbled impatiently.

Neirah chuckled and bound her hair with the studded black bracelet she kept on her right wrist. "You know, I think he's rather charming." Her gaze humbled fondly to consider Misaki's passion and how he had no aversions to burning. It took her almost a full year to get to the same place in her life, but it seemed like he had been that way since the beginning. "I can appreciate an honest man."

"Yata-san, let go!" Rikio griped through his struggle. "If you don't want to call Tsukiyo Nē-chan, then that's okay!"

"Dumbass! You shouldn't either!" Misaki growled. He backed away from Rikio's interfering struggle and readied to pounce a second time after he chastised his choices a little more. "I'm tellin' ya, it's stupid! And when Dewa and Chitose get here, I'm gonna tell them the same-"

Rikio's gasping expression paled to the shrill yelp that was forced from Misaki's throat as Neirah's flying drop kick crashed into his friend, giving the socially awkward youth a bold show of panty beneath her skirt before his incapacitation. Rikio reached out from his hands and knees, alarm in his voice as they both crashed to the ground with a thundering clap. All animosity towards his companion faded as he begged his salvation. "Nē-chan! Go easy on him, okay!?"

Misaki struggled in vain, his face hot with humiliation. His fingers were like claws, scraping at the naked thighs wrapped solidly around his neck and intent on devastating him. He coughed once in an attempt to relieve some of the tension she put on his windpipe, but when that didn't work, he tried a couple more times to no avail. "D-damn it, woman!" He bared his teeth, scrambling desperately to catch his breath after his uproar. He started to kick his feet out like the momentum might help him stave off her offence. "W-why are your legs s-so fucking strong!?"

Izumo sighed his relief, but immediately tilted his gaze towards the sight of Masaomi and Yō arriving. "Ah, perfect timing," he announced pleasantly. "I think Yata had somethin' he wanted to share with you, boys."

Misaki continued to wriggle helplessly like a beached fish on a line. "S-shut up!"

Masaomi's brow twitched when he met the unnerving sight unfolding on the ground at their feet. "Oh wow, who got Nē-chan involved? That's just inhumane." Perspire beaded on his brow nervously to consider the fate of their newest recruit. "That's probably the worst place you could be, right there."

Yō tilted his head ninety degrees to try and untangle the bodies struggling on the floor. "I don't know. I'd give up pretty much anything to be locked between a beautiful woman's thighs." He closed his eyes and nodded to himself as he agreed with his own statement. "Yup. Seems like the place to be." He laughed menacingly as he swiftly ducked to the side and managed to avoid Masaomi's furious strike. "Missed!"

Yō's bitter bark was filled with impatience when he was blindsided from the opposing side by Saburōta. "Yata's right. If anyone should be stripped of their right to call Onē-san _Nē-chan_, it's you." He popped his fists on his hips and turned to watch the commotion next to the men who scanned him incredulously in his peripherals. When he finally caught notice, his nerve weakened, and he shrunk away from the pressure. "E-eh, no?"

Shortly after his offence, Yō had snapped his arm around Saburōta's neck with a dim growl, locking him against his side. Only certain clansmen had earned the privilege to beat him for his perversion, and Saburōta hadn't quite met the tier requirements yet.

Saruhiko growled impatiently, one step away from covering his ears to the sound of Misaki's pitiful curses. "Misaki, if you don't like it, just shut up and fight back already."

Yō seemed interested in the kerfuffle a second time. "Are you kidding? Who wouldn't-?"

"Don't test me!" Masaomi snapped.

"S-s-she's a girl!" Misaki snarled desperately. "I can't hit a g-girl!"

Neirah remained pitiless and unmoved by his helpless scuffling. "You're a boy, and I'd hit you." The room took that as her attempted justification.

Misaki's blush deepened into the most brilliant shades of crimson as their audience grew around his suffering. "Y-yeah, but that's what girls are s-supposed to do!"

From where he'd relit his cigarette, Izumo narrowed his sights on the pair until he could barely see through focused hazel eyes. He let the moment pass, considering it carefully and waiting for someone else to address the boy's statement. He could hardly believe that he had to be the first. "Wait. What?"

"I have a feeling Yata-chan would attract the wrong kind of women," Tatara tittered playfully. After another moment of watching the boy suffer, he turned his pleasant beam back towards Izumo. "Okay, Kusanagi-san. I think he's learned his lesson by now."

Izumo flipped his lighter shut and returned it to his pocket, taking a slow drag of his smoke. "I don't know. I think that kid's even more stubborn than she was when she first showed up."

Tatara's sound reason was a little authoritative when he rushed his command out more urgently. "He's turning funny colours."

To the sound of Tatara's genuine concern, a small smile curled Izumo's lips. He closed his eyes before dipping his chin with a breathy sigh. "Yeah, alright." When the sound of his fingers snapping filled the bar, the pressure of Neirah's thighs immediately lessened. Misaki hadn't stopped fighting the entire time, so as soon as he felt the cobra give, he shoved her away and scrambled as fast as he could to safety.

He clasped his throat, emotional tears filled with humiliation, anger and fear lingering in the corner of his wild gaze as he panted to refill his aching lungs. "A-are you crazy!? Y-you coulda killed me!"

Neirah took Rikio's offered hand and popped elegantly back onto her feet, no worse for wear. She gave her skirt a gentle pat to banish the dust and promised that she would help Izumo clean up that night. "Seems like a strange thing to say to someone who just _skirts by on the fact that they're a woman_, hm, Fushimi-san?"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko diverted his gaze entirely to avoid her intense glower, and he refused to join the song of laughter filling the bar. It was unorthodox, but he had to admit that HOMRA had more likeness to a family than what he'd ever had. He wasn't entirely sure how that made him feel just yet, but if he had to lean to one side or the other, disgust was probably tipping the scale.

He turned to face where Misaki had sulked to his side for protection, and he watched the boy pout his rejection. It was nice to know that Misaki thought it was strange, too, in some form, at least. At first, he couldn't stand how delighted Misaki was with Mikoto. It made him feel nauseous, so when he realized that Misaki was willing to put up some form of resistance in their new life, he remembered why it was him. "That was pretty pathetic," he deadpanned.

Misaki glowered at the woman wrathfully as he fumed his refusal of her presence. "They're so full of it," he growled bitterly. "Her? Sweet?" Maybe a weaker part of him had wanted to believe that she wasn't so lethal, and that was the reason why he at least made an effort to do more than ignore her. It wasn't that he hated her or anything so childish, but she made things... complicated.

The youth snorted his rejection, tearing his gaze from where she seemed to brighten with the arrival of her friends. He felt like he and Saruhiko were like the next generation and somehow left out. He supposed that was what truly upset him about her. "What a joke..." If he couldn't overcome his fear of her, he would continue to feel this way. Unfortunately, typically harmless women were hard enough for him to approach, so the mere thought of making an effort with HOMRA's hunter made him dizzy. "She's savage."

"That's funny coming from you," Saruhiko instigated dryly.

Misaki turned to face him with a curious knot in his face like he expected that the man might have justified his statement, but he didn't. Comprehending that Saruhiko had finished sharing, he returned his hangdog expression towards the commotion. "I can't believe a guy like Totsuka-san lives with that."

Saruhiko snorted his indifference before speaking. For someone like Totsuka-san, the weakest of them all. "Makes you wonder if she isn't harmless after all." His lazy gaze wandered cautiously over the sight of her exit with Saburōta, cold calculation considering her character. "That'd be pretty disappointing, wouldn't it?"

* * *

The night was fading, and so was her ability to stay conscious in the comforting warmth of the recently dusted bar lights. She gave her eyes a gentle rub, and stood from the table she was seated at, picking up her teacup to return it to the kitchen for washing. She wandered past the bar, dropping her hand from her eyes to turn and observe where Tatara had been with Izumo, Misaki, Anna and Mikoto in pleasant conversation on the other side of the bar. She didn't know why, but even if she and Anna had developed a somewhat stable relationship, she felt the sting of jealousy when she watched the young Strain sit in Tatara's lap. Her tone was soft, but her intentions weren't entirely noble as she called out to him. "Tat-chan, we should go home soon." We, both of us, to our home.

Dismay filled her when he continued to prattle, his hand waving off her concern. "Sure, Nei-chan. I'll be there in a minute."

Neirah's expression dropped as her posture went limp, and discouragement filled her appearance. "You said that fifteen minutes ago..."

"You go on, then. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

The utterly oblivious smile on his cheerful expression broke her heart, but even so, it still infected her until her own was forming. "Okay."

She lowered her meek smile towards her teacup, and when she turned to raise her attention again, she caught the sight of Saruhiko isolating himself from the merry banter happening on the other side of the bar. Adjusting her observance once more, she considered Misaki's delighted braying while his friend and partner brooded in the corner on his own. When she lowered her gaze back to her teacup, she snorted like she wanted to laugh at the irony. If nothing else, they could sympathize with one another, to some extent, and she supposed that that was as good a base as any to start a relationship.

It hadn't been so hard with Saburōta because she had taken responsibility for his introduction to their way of life. But ever since Tatara started to inaugurate the newest members, she found herself struggling to maintain relationships with them. Sure, she had missed the attention Tatara used to devote to her, but his worship of their king wasn't exactly new. It made her feel like maybe life was a little easier when she was broken. His hand was always there to help her to her feet. But since she'd taken control of her future, he'd extended his hand to those who needed it most.

She shook her head, grasping just how petty she was being. That was just Tatara, and that was what she loved about him. Her two worlds had become one within herself, and as such, her fear and hesitation dimmed. All that remained was the in-between. Even if she missed the doting, she didn't begrudge any of her friends the same feeling. Something inside her cautioned her that it might be time to move on from the crutch of his familiarity.

She turned to face where Saruhiko was lingering, connecting their gazes to consider. He was the only one who didn't flee from her stare. She respected that about him. Setting the saucer on the bar next to her, she approached her brave raven-haired clansmen. It was time for her to broaden her horizons.


	2. Kilter

**Kilter**

* * *

_**April 14th, 2009 11:15 pm**_

Misaki drained of all energy by the time he left HOMRA. Usually, he would be conscious of things like the way the grade of the concrete shifted beneath the wheels of his skateboard. But, as he meandered lazily through town and around pedestrians, it was beyond his comprehension.

When he arrived at his destination, he popped off the board and kicked its nose up. The moment it settled into his palm, he looked over his shoulder and wondered when using the accessory had become so natural. He shrugged indifferently and banished the thought, accepting that no matter when it had become second nature, it had gotten him home without having to overthink it.

That was when he turned his fiery scowl on the sight of his shared apartment, where he hoped Saruhiko was waiting to have his head chewed off. Aggravation plagued him when he'd noticed the man had slipped away from the bar without notifying him, and by the time he made it all the way home, he was ready to throw down. The aggression was going to be what he used to cover up the fact that he was worried sick about the way his apathetic comrade had been acting recently.

He wasn't sure if it made him madder or filled him with relief when he made it to his front door and saw a beam of light glowing along a strip at the bottom. On top of that, he heard rustling and the rapid pattering of keys hammering on a mechanical keyboard. It meant that somebody was home, which said he would have an outlet for his fury. Misaki knew that as soon as he opened the door, he would forgive all with a couple of vaguely worded quips, but that wouldn't stop him from kicking up a storm while he could.

He threw open the door hard enough that it cracked against the wall on the other side to announce his disapproval. "Ah-_HA_! So, you were here the whole time, Saruhi-eek!"

The sight he met was so bewildering that Misaki dropped his skateboard from under his arm with a clattering racket and toppled to the floor next to it. He shuffled back through the doorframe and stammered over his words. "S-sa- w-what the- Saruhiko! A-are you in there?!" He threw his head back with a piercing cry of terror. "Saruhiko!"

Through his wild hazel stare, he watched in disgust as Neirah slowly tilted her chin over her shoulder from where she sat peacefully cross-legged in the centre of his apartment floor. The only way that sight could have gotten any worse was by dressing her in what seemed to be pyjama shorts with a spaghetti-strap tank top that was way too tight across the chest. He surely didn't leave that there when he'd gone out earlier that day.

"Well, it's a good thing those 'PEZ' kicked in," she muffled evenly. "Boy, you're noisy."

Remembering how furious he'd been when he left the bar, Misaki took the opportunity to vent his frustrations on the casual woman sipping tea at, what he would deem, his living room table. She'd even comfortably tucked herself beneath the blanket attached to the kotatsu that he and Saruhiko had found. And that was his spot. He didn't want her in his spot. "T-Tsuki-yo...! How the h-hell did you get in here?!" He barked his demand as confidently as he could with his legs shaking as severely as they were beneath him. "W-what did you d-do with Saruhiko!?"

From the top bunk to the right of their apartment, he heard a disrupted scoff accompanied by his roommate's impatient sigh. "How do you think? I let her in." The clicking of the illuminated keys continued to flash in the reflection of his spectacles, and he didn't turn from his computer monitor. "Now quiet down, would you? You're gonna wake up the entire building."

"W-what are you saying?!" Misaki threw both hands into his hair and jerked on it to express his outrage. "Are you crazy!? Y-y-you can't just- you can't just-!" From his knees, he slammed his hands down in front of him to redirect the attention Saruhiko never gave him towards the seemingly innocent woman in their home. "Are you crazy!?" he reiterated furiously.

Neirah gently massaged her earlobe over her new piercing between her thumb and forefinger as she watched his rage exaggerate. Wen he seemed to take a moment to catch his breath, she offered him the sight of her steaming teacup as a peace offering. "I made tea. Would you like some?"

Misaki stood in the doorway for a moment, utterly dumbfounded, before shaking his thoughts clear and raising his voice again. "W-what the f- No, I don't want tea!" He fell forward in his mad dash, scampering with his fingertips dragging on the floor before he made it to the ladder leading him to Saruhiko's bunk. He quickly rushed up the rungs and conveyed his annoyance to his roommate. "Saru, you can't just have people over without asking me first! _Especially_ if they're girls!"

"Why? I thought you said girls weren't special?" Saruhiko still didn't raise his gaze from his station as Misaki's darted frantically between his two casual clansmen like if he took his eyes off them for just a second, all hell would break loose. Finally, to the sound of Misaki's unimpressed growl, Saruhiko sighed and rolled his judgment. "Fine then. Can Tsukiyo stay over tonight?"

"S-s-stay over?!" A devastating thump later, Misaki grunted with the impact of his body striking the floor at the base of the ladder. "N-n-no way!" he hollered back lividly.

Saruhiko still didn't pay the fuss any mind. "Sorry, Tsukiyo, but I guess you have to leave."

Neirah watched out of the corner of her eye as Misaki rose to his hands and knees, nodding frantically as his roommate laid down the law. The sight forced her to conceal her amused smirk behind the rim of her cup as she sipped her beverage. "No, I think I'll stay."

"Guess she's gonna stay," Saruhiko lazily cemented.

Misaki's expression paled in disbelief. "S-s-she can't stay!"

Cocking a brow with a venomous warning in her steady azure gaze, she turned to face him squarely. "Are you going to _make_ me leave?"

The sultry malice in her tone caused a shiver to rip down Misaki's spine, and he suddenly felt vulnerable in his own home. A mild squeak sounded in the back of his throat as he silently begged his roommate's aid in the situation. "W-well, I-!"

Growing impatient with the ruckus down below, Saruhiko finally blinked over his drying eyes and let his computer screen slumber. If he hadn't personally let her in, he would have completely forgotten that she was there up until Misaki showed up. It was strangely comforting having someone around who would respect his indifference. "Listen, I don't like it either, but you know as well as I do that if I said no, she would have just shown up here anyways. She has no regard for personal space."

"What?! No way!" Misaki refuted. "Nobody's that rude!"

Neirah tittered quietly and sipped her tea. "Oh no, he's right. I absolutely would have. We could make a game of it if you'd like."

"I'd like it if you'd leave!" Misaki commanded passionately.

"Well, unfortunately for you, I'm comfortable."

"I'm sure as hell not!"

"That's what makes it unfortunate for you."

Misaki whirled to face Saruhiko up in his bunk as a low chortle of amusement interrupted their banter. "D-did you- Did you just laugh!?"

Saruhiko cleared his throat to conceal his enjoyment. "If you're asking me that, there's a chance that I didn't, right?"

Misaki threw his head back with a desperate wail. "Why do I feel like you two are ganging up on me?!"

Gently surrendering her teacup to its saucer, Neirah turned to face Misaki with a subtly kinder expression on her face. "Look, I'm here because I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings; about today, that is."

"S-so, you b-broke into my place and made tea?" Misaki uttered in disbelief. "D-don't you think that's a _little_ much!?"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko's tone was flat with impatience as he leisurely let himself down from the bunk that he'd deemed his personal space. "I already told you, I let her in."

Misaki threw his arms up and paced uneasy circles in front of the door. "This is wrong. Everything's wrong. I musta fallen asleep on my way home, and this is all a bad dream."

Neirah snorted softly in response to his theatrics. "Rude." She hummed her gentle indifference and picked up her tea again. "Honestly, I think you should be considering yourself lucky. I threw Wolf-kun in a tent on the beach to solve our misgivings. It was pretty awkward."

Misaki hunched, slowly turning his tapered leer over his shoulder to face her beneath thick chestnut bangs. He didn't know which was the less believable thought, the fact that she tossed one of her fellow clansmen in a tent or the fact that she and Saburōta ever had misgivings. "What kind of screwed up relationships do you have with these people?!"

"Aren't you glad to be one of them now?" she doted sardonically.

Saruhiko slowly passed by Misaki and dropped his empty soda bottle in the recycling. "I told you she has no regard for personal space."

"Stop letting this happen!" Misaki froze for a moment in consideration as Saruhiko quietly passed him by in the opposite direction, and when he considered what had just happened, he humbled. He glanced the recycling where Saruhiko had dropped his bottle without having to be reminded that that was where bottles go. In response, Misaki raised his mild expression to where Saruhiko had joined Neirah in the centre of the floor, and all at once, he received his friend's silently apology.

He crept a few steps forward like he was still hesitant and peeked into their midst to see that Neirah's textbooks spread on the table in front of her. "I-is that your homework?"

Despite the way he stiffened to her natural smile, she still offered it over her shoulder. "Boring, I know, but Kusanagi-san won't let me off the hook." She gave him her back but not in an uninviting way. It was a casual and confident way that marked the instinctual trust she had for her fellow Red Clan members. "Fushimi-san is still trying to teach me the basics. I didn't realize how far behind I was until he started talking."

Saruhiko's dull quip was quiet as he leaned back on one arm and rested her textbook on his raised knee. "You mean, until you started _listening_." He flipped a page and poked at one of her assignment equations with the back of his pen. "You have a bad case of selective hearing, and your attention span is garbage."

Neirah snickered and started to work through the math in front of her. "Mn, I love it when you sweet-talk me."

_Tsk_.

Misaki blinked back at their interactions while he processed her casual remark. "W-wait... Y-y-you're Tsukiyo... right? Tsukiyo Neirah? The Red Lion?"

"Red Lion_ess_," she corrected gently. "But yes. I'm she, all the same."

From where Misaki remained, his legs collapsed and tangled simultaneously beneath him as he dropped cross-legged to the floor. He wanted to demand more answers, but he didn't know if his sleep-addled brain could handle the quiet chaos of Neirah's intrusion. The woman sitting at his table giggling sweetly in response to his best friend's irritability was not the same woman who nearly choked the life out of him that afternoon. At least, he hoped that she wasn't the same, because everything she was at that moment was everything that he needed her not to be. It would have been easier passionately convincing himself that she was a monster. Monsters could look after themselves.

After an hour of quiet lecture, Neirah completed her homework, and she felt closer to her least favourite subject. "Thank you for your help, Fushimi-san. Just for this, I promise I won't whine to Dewa-kun any more for help."

Saruhiko turned away with a disgruntled snort. "I couldn't care less if you did."

She snickered deviously. "That seems like an odd statement when you claimed that was the reason for helping me in the first place."

"Have you met my roommate? As demonstrated, I'm pretty good at ignoring whining."

"Touché." Neirah did say that she could appreciate an honest man. "Regardless, I'm grateful." She wanted to pry deeper into his story, but the way he closed his posture had warned her that the conversation was over. She had grown interested in people, and she actively blamed that on her life with Tatara over the past year, but unlike her eager roommate, she knew when enough was enough.

She turned over her shoulder to face where Misaki still hadn't moved, and just as she did, he shook the sleep from his bobbing head, so she didn't take notice of his vulnerability. He remained fixed and blushing by the front door, his legs numb beneath him as he stared back at her intensely. She couldn't help but feel like his actions were maybe payback for when they'd first met. A casual hum sounded behind her lips as she addressed Saruhiko beside her. "Is he always like this?"

Saruhiko dragged himself to his feet and stretched out his lean body. "Actually, he's pretty well behaved tonight. That's not like him at all."

"That's what I thought."

"I can hear you, y' know!" Misaki knotted up his face and glowered back at the pair impatiently. He was tired, but he couldn't bring himself to approach. He was angry and a tad resentful, not to mention he didn't know if his legs were going to work when he finally decided to rise.

Neirah tipped her head back and watched Saruhiko pass her by on his way to the bathroom. That left her alone with her hesitant new clansman. It was apparent that she and Saruhiko had a relatively civil working relationship, but Misaki was another story entirely. There was a fire in his bright eyes as he glared at her from where he'd rooted himself. The act might have intimidated her if he didn't look like he was twelve.

"I like that about you."

Misaki flinched to the sound of her unobtrusive statement in the quiet room. At first, he was curious as to whether or not she'd been speaking to Saruhiko through the bathroom door, but her casual gaze remained immovably locked with his. The venom didn't fade from his words as he coughed them up in reply. "L-like what...?"

"Your honesty," she admitted softly. "I think it's admirable."

Humiliation coloured his face when he finally turned it away. Neirah certainly seemed like a hard woman to offend. "O-oh yeah? Good for you," he snorted.

The crease in her brow almost mirrored disdain as she stared back at him for another quiet moment. "You don't like me much, do you?"

Alarms began to sound in his ears when she approached him with a hint of vulnerability in her tone. That was the last thing he wanted to hear coming from her. It caused him to startle to the sound of her blunt accusation, and it left him tripping over his sheepish rebuttal. "W-well I- It's not that I ha-hate you, really..." He turned away and gave his nape a scratch. "I j-just don't get why-"

"You wonder what a nice girl like me is doing tied up in all of this?"

He lurched back onto the offensive. "Yeah, right! Nice is _definitely_ not the word I was lookin' for!"

Neirah didn't seem insulted or angered by his swift retort in the slightest. "Well, maybe you'll think better of me come morning when you wake up, and you still have all your digits."

Misaki's eyes widened, and when he stood up to chase after the sight of his roommate passing by again, he collapsed onto the floor, feeling like he'd just stumbled over a porcupine. "Saruhiko! She's not really staying here tonight, is she!?"

Saruhiko reached over and flicked off the leading light in their apartment, the padding of his bare feet the only way anyone knew he was still on the move. "It's too late to send her home now."

"She's basically HOMRA's hitman!" Misaki passionately refuted. "She can take care of herself, can't she?!"

"I'm going to sleep," Saruhiko concluded.

"W-wait! Where's she gonna sleep then!?"

Saruhiko's voice continued to grow distant as his tone flattened. "Give her your bed if you're worried about it."

Misaki's face ignited at the very thought as he spewed his rhetorical statement. "N-no w-way! Have you never heard about the Chitose Incident of '08?!"

"The what?"

"Saruuu!"

* * *

_**April 15th, 2009**_

"No, I'm alright.

Yeah, I stayed the night. Did you not get my note? I left it on the fridge.

Mn, no, it was fine! Really…

I'll tell you about it when I get home, okay?

Alright, I'll see you after school."

Misaki groaned and rubbed his eyes, his sleep-deprived mind trying to comprehend the gentle feminine voice rising with the sun. Flopping on his back, he squinted up into the sight of his wristwatch that told him it was way too early for him to be awake when he only got to bed at three in the morning. He sat up with a start. "Wait, when did I-?" He quickly looked around him and realized he was beneath his blankets, but what he couldn't recall was how he got there.

That disturbing thought was put on the backburner when Neirah passed by him, adjusting her high school uniform by buttoning her blouse up over her frequently exposed HOMRA brand. She had stayed the night, and he supposed, she wasn't wrong when she claimed he would have better faith in her when he awoke with all his digits.

Neirah caught fussing out of the corner of her eye and realized that she had probably woken Misaki with her phone call. Guilt made her cheekbones flush beneath the dark lines inked on her cheeks, and she smiled sheepishly back at his defensive leer. "Sorry, did I wake you?" That was an obvious question, and when he didn't bother answering it, she continued. "Tat-chan was worried about me staying out, so he called to make sure I was up in time for school. Don't worry. I'm leaving now so you can go back to sleep." He thought it was cute that she even thought there was a chance he'd be able to oblige her suggestion so casually.

He watched her approach the door, grabbing her shoes and rolling her index finger around the back to squeeze her dainty socked feet into the leather. She flopped her schoolbooks over her shoulder and quietly opened the door, careful to peek inside as she closed it. She met Misaki's gaze across the room with a tender grin. "You might want to lock this behind me." With her calm whisper, she closed the door behind herself with a barely audible click.

Misaki blinked a couple of times beneath his furrowed brow before he was scrambling across the floor towards the entryway with heavy, flat-footed pattering causing Saruhiko to jerk his comforter over his head with a dismal groan.

When he made his way to the passage, he threw it open just in time to catch Neirah on her humble departure. His mad rush and clamouring had attracted her attention, but once he'd seized it, he wasn't quite sure what he meant to do with it.

He panted for a moment, his hair a dishevelled mess in desperate need of combing and his cheeks dark with sheepish hesitancy. The sight made Neirah chuckle lightly. "Oh? Did you prefer I leave it open instead? I'll remember that for the next time."

He picked up his jaw and recoiled, not sure he was ready to joke with the woman he knew concealed one of HOMRA's most lethal forces. The whole night was still a blur and a strange jumble of mixed emotions. He knew he had to come to terms with her, but not as a woman, as a fellow clansman if that was possible. Unfortunately, he was still having a hard time doing that as her dark burgundy skirt swished around her shapely hips.

He bit the inside of his lip in consideration before shouting his question like it demanded an urgent response. "W-why _did_ you join HOMRA?" It wasn't aggressive, but he wasn't quiet either, and maybe it wasn't a great time to be asking her such a complicated question. At least, he was pretty sure that's what it would be, but he couldn't get his filter to return before six in the morning, and he was desperate to know how the woman found her way to them. He could understand Anna, but Neirah was a different story entirely. He could work out the intricate details later, but that was if he was satisfied with her initial response.

"Why?" She seemed amused with his rushed demand and responded in an unexpectedly sweet, musical tone. "Because I needed somewhere to belong."

Six words were all he had managed to get out of her before she was gone, and he was left to stand outside his front door with a bewildered expression locked on his face. He didn't know what he expected out of her, maybe more than six words. He supposed he wasn't looking for her life story, but he didn't know if six words were enough. It seemed like something he should probably have six more hours of sleep under his belt before considering, but he had to admit that at least some of the fog had lifted, and that was a disturbing thought.

With his heart jumbled, he sauntered back into his apartment and quietly closed the door, letting his hand linger on the knob for a moment. If Neirah was a savage beast, he could resent her for her strengths, but the lies he'd received since day one weren't telling him the whole story. After he'd gotten a proper sleep, he would ride out to HOMRA and finally question the rest of their clansmen one-on-one to get some honest answers out of them. The woman they painted her to be was not the woman he saw that morning. What he wanted to know was whose benefit the deception was for, theirs or hers.

* * *

Even noon felt too early to be awake, and that admittance came in the form of Misaki's dramatically vocal yawn. It was on pure instinct that he climbed the rungs towards where his still slumbering roommate hauled up in denial of daybreak, and when he reached the top, his groggy expression begged Saruhiko's attention. "Hey, you up?" When he didn't receive a response, he flopped his palms against the cocooned mass and heaved on it. "Saru, hey, are you awake yet?"

Finally, an exasperated groan noted that the man was still alive in his bed. "I'm trying really hard not to be, but you're making it very difficult."

Misaki's face twisted into a disgruntled knot. "Geez, you don't have to be such a dick about it."

"What do you want, Misaki?"

Suddenly aware of his circumstance, Misaki threw his defiant pout over his shoulder to observe where their unexpected guest had stayed the night. She had left her blanket folded neatly on the kotatsu with the pillow on top. For whatever reason, something about that had irritated him. He imagined that he would have been more comfortable if it had claw marks in it. "So, about Tsukiyo-"

_Tsk_.

Misaki whirled to face the fussing mass with a flash of fury in his awakened senses. "Don't _tsk_ me! I want to know why you let her in here last night!"

"I already told you. She had her mind made up before she asked me." He poked his fingers out of his blanketed nest and tugged the comforting form closer to his face. "Don't ask stupid questions."

"So, you're just gonna let her get away with bossing you around?! She could have asked nicely, you know!"

In one swift motion, Saruhiko had ditched his cover and turned his aggravated scowl to face his friend. "Don't misunderstand what's happening here," he nearly snarled. "What I was _trying_ to do was avoid the headache of fighting a pointless battle, which I seem to be doing anyway."

"I'm tellin' you; there's somethin' not right with her!" Misaki defended passionately. "Or, one of her, there might be two! I'm not sure yet."

Saruhiko's gaze met his soundly for a long moment where neither advanced or retreated. During that time, he managed to figure out what had frustrated his companion about their female friend, and he wasn't willing to deal with it just then. Deeming the situation as none of his business, Saruhiko turned away and burrowed back into his loft. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Fushimi, I'm being serious!"

"No, you're being annoying," he sighed.

"Fine! Screw you too!" Misaki barked intolerantly. Instead of climbing back down the ladder, he leapt from the top with an unsteady thump. He grabbed his skateboard and started for the door with a determined furrow in his face. "I'm gonna go ask everyone else what they think."

"Whatever. I don't care."

Saruhiko's mild retort only made Misaki angrier, but even if he couldn't admit it out loud, he had his doubts that the people sharing his purpose would see things his way. They all seemed to have the same opinion of the woman in question, so he wasn't sure if he was going to get any useful information out of them. _'HOMRA's hunter... they treat her like she's untouchable.'_ All he knew when he slammed the front door behind him was that he was going to try. _'But she's still just a girl...'_

The first on his list became Saburōta when he caught the sight of the man walking by his lonesome through town. Saburōta, or _Wolf-kun_, was one of the people Neirah seemed to get along with best, right up there with Tatara and Rikio. If anyone were to see her at her weakest, it would be them, for sure. He didn't expect newer members to be of any use. They were all given the same warnings upon initiation; Neirah was HOMRA's hunter and wasn't to be provoked. But surely some of the senior members must have known the truth.

His next entirely rational decision was to tackle Saburōta at full speed to get his attention, to which the man replied by justifiably baying his alarm. By the time Saburōta had realized that an ally had tackled him, his panic had turned to frustration, and he leapt back with a stomp of his foot to express his tantrum. "What the hell was that all about?!"

Misaki threw his finger out and pointed at the man like he was under suspicion for a crime. "I want answers, Bandō, and I ain't leavin' until I get 'em!"

To what sounded like an accusation, Saburōta huffed in an animated display of annoyance. "Look, you can't just go around jumpin' people like that!"

Misaki lowered his finger, a satisfied smirk brightening his expression. "Scared ya, didn't I? You're such a pussy."

Affronted, Saburōta snapped back violently to cover for his sheepish blush. "What the hell do you want, Yata?!"

Misaki's expression darkened soberly to reconsider his purpose. "I wanna know what your first impression of Tsukiyo was."

Saburōta seemed bewildered by his unexpected announcement, and, at first, he wasn't sure whether he should take him seriously or not. "Wait seriously...?" His annoyance had returned and intensified. "That's what you almost made me eat dirt for?!"

"Spill!"

Saburōta scoffed and rolled his eyes, recalling the night that he met the fiery spirit that drew him to HOMRA's door. All the while, he wished that he'd had a better excuse for the heat in his distorted face. "I don't know. I guess I thought she was pretty tough for a girl."

Misaki seemed displeased with the vague prompt. "Wait, are you sure you're rememberin' it right?"

Saburōta touched his chin in thought and deepened his analysis. "Well, I mean, sure, I guess. The first time I saw her, she was trashin' some Strain that couldn't feel pain." He turned his attention to Misaki swiftly and raised his index finger with a bright smile. "And then Mikoto-san came and one-punched the guy into a boathouse! It was pretty intense."

It was bitter-sweet how Misaki both loved and hated being wrong, kind of like how Saburōta looked simultaneously excited and petrified as he threw his hands onto his hips. It made the undertones of his statement a little hard to read. "I can't tell whether that makes you proud or terrified."

"A little bit of both!" And he stated it so casually. "Our king's one tough customer!"

Misaki threw his arms down by his side and silently promised himself he would maim the man when he completed the rest of his interrogations. "Idiot! I'm not worried about Mikoto-san, I'm worried about Tsukiyo!" He immediately flushed, quick to retreat away from Saburōta's confused stare. "Ah, forget it! You're no help!"

Misaki growled lowly to himself as he scratched Saburōta's name off of a sheet of paper, and next to it, he scribbled the word _savage_.

He seemed to shock himself out of his daze when he caught the sound of Yō's flirtatious drawl, followed shortly by his bitter curses. Sure enough, he had stumbled across a pair that always seemed to travel together. Likely, that was because Yō would get himself into way too much trouble for Mikoto to bail him out of if it weren't for Masaomi's guidance.

Misaki kicked off the ground, the wheels beneath his feet clattering noisily against the breaks in the sidewalk as he crossed the street to join them. "Hey, you two, wait up!" He popped his board up over the curb and meandered to a stop next to the men ditched by three of the fairer sex.

"Oh, hey Yata," Masaomi greeted pleasantly. "No Fushimi today?"

Misaki's demeanour seemed to obscure to the inquiry. "Never mind that. I want to ask you two a question!" He held out his pen and paper, waiting to record their thoughts.

"Sure, what's up?" Yō encouraged curiously. "Whatever it is, you seem pretty fired up about it."

"I want to know what Tsukiyo is really like!"

Yō seemed delighted by his request and had no problems sharing his honest opinion. "You mean you didn't notice the halo? I mean, sure her beauty's a given but-" His words were interrupted when Misaki beat Masaomi to the punch and latched onto the man's collar.

"Halo, my ass!" He gave the man a severe jolt. "You can't seriously expect me to believe crap like that!"

Masaomi snorted dryly. "Can't he, though? I'm pretty sure he'd say the same thing about any woman."

Yō seemed to take a personal offence to the man's frigid statement, and he immediately began to fidget with the black bangle he wore to oppose Neirah's. "Oi, you know that's not true! Nē-chan is special!" He stiffened to the sight of Misaki's burning gaze locked on him like he was going to snap at any minute.

"_Who's_ special?"

Yō calmly picked Misaki's burning fingers from his vest with a dismissive snort. "Ah? Tsukiyo-san, obviously..."

Their clamouring left Masaomi to sigh. "Idiot. You never learn."

Misaki turned his gaze to meet Masaomi's instead, surrendering that he wasn't going to get much of anything useful out of Yō. "What do you think then, Dewa?"

"Who me?"

"Yeah. Bandō said she beat the crap outta this Strain guy last year, and it was pretty hardcore. Know anythin' about that? Like maybe the other side of the story?"

"Are you talking about Goya? Yeah, I was there," Masaomi muttered uneasily. "Not much to say about it, though. We ran into the creep again when we busted up that Yakuza group just after Christmas."

A single one of Misaki's eyes twitched. "I don't give a shit about _Goya_. I want to know what _she_ was doing!"

The two men seemed to find Misaki's passion entertaining, and their gazes connected as they emitted a relaxed choir of chuckles. "I don't know, kickin' ass?" Masaomi teased.

"We didn't see her until everything was said and done," Yō supported. "They sent her in first to stir shit up."

Masaomi nodded in agreement with his friend and pulled a lighter out of his pocket, slipping it towards Yō while he continued. "I guess, in that sense, Bandō isn't far off. Nē-chan can be pretty scary."

Yō successfully ignited his cigarette and tucked the lighter he'd received into his vest pocket. "Yeah, and it's hella cute."

Misaki groaned bleakly, keeping his gaze locked with Yō's as he rapidly scratched out his name on the list. "Yeah, you're a big help, too," he spat sarcastically. As he slipped away from their bickering, he crossed out Masaomi's name as well, recording _savage_ next to it while delegating a question mark to Yō's. He could use it later to break a tie if he needed to.

He continued for a while, losing more steam with every encounter. So far, the consensus was that Neirah was a stone-cold killer and that should have been the end of it. What continued to vex him, though, was the way she'd answered his question that morning. It left him filled with a sense of foreboding. He could accept a dangerous woman as being dangerous, but it was this mysterious alternate that was getting on his nerves.

By the end of the afternoon, he had stumbled upon Kōsuke out for coffee. Which went a little like:

"I saw her throw Chitose over her head once."

And Misaki didn't know why that seemed to take him by surprise. "What!? Her own-!?" It actually made quite a bit of sense after he'd thought about it. "Wait, you know what? He probably deserved it."

"He definitely deserved it."

It hadn't taken him much longer to track down Rikio with the right bait. After spilling that she had taken out ten or so armed Yakuza members on a couple of buildings just outside Izumo's bar, he was scribbling _savage_ next to Rikio and Kōsuke combined.

What took him by surprise was when he ran into Tatara and Mikoto just as they prepared to leave Izumo's bar. Although he said it with a forgiving laugh, Tatara had spilt about a scar he received from the woman in her sleep. By that point, Misaki wasn't as enthusiastic about his research anymore. He was downright mortified. Even his king passed him with the briefest of warnings.

"Yeah, just don't piss her off."

That may have been the most helpful information he had received the whole day. His conclusion: there had to be two of her.

When he finally stepped foot in the bar, he had been exhausted, and his head was spinning. He didn't even bother asking the well-informed bartender his opinion. It didn't matter at that point. He flopped onto one of the stools by Izumo's front and stared vacantly into the abyss of his thoughts, trying to comprehend the stressful situation at hand. She was complicated, and it was messing up his entire experience with the Red Clan.

Izumo watched the boy expectantly for a long moment before scoffing lightly and addressing him like he was disappointed. "What? Not gonna ask me what it was like when I first met HOMRA's Red Lioness?"

Misaki shifted his suspicious gaze towards the man. "How'd you know about that?"

Izumo wagged his phone in front of Misaki wryly. "We live in an age of technology, my friend," he purred. "Everyone and their dog's askin' me if I know why you're so into Tsukiyo all of a sudden. And I must say, it's lookin' a tad suspicious."

Misaki's face boiled with impatience as he leaned forward and struck the bar. "Don't say weird stuff like that!"

"Now, now, easy on the bar, kid," Izumo cautioned him musically. "I know she's got you flustered. Right from the get-go, you and her weren't a real good fit. You've got problems. She's got problems-"

"I don't have a problem!" Misaki vigorously refuted. "She's the one who tried to kill me yesterday!" His face contorted bitterly at the recollection. "Thanks for letting her, by the way."

"You can't talk to girls," Izumo drawled in justification. "That's a problem." To the sight of Misaki humbling sheepishly in his midst, he adjusted his approach. "Nah, that's not right either, is it? You can talk to girls just fine. It's women that get you every time, and Neirah's a lotta woman to handle. I get why you'd be intimidated."

"It's not-!" Misaki's peripherals caught the sight of his list on the bar, and he seemed to quiet, reclaiming his seat in front of Izumo. "It's not like that..."

"That's what I've heard," Izumo chastised coolly. "So why don't you park it right there and tell me what's really on your mind. I didn't get into this profession for nothing."

Misaki shoved his hands into his lap and wriggled uncomfortably, his meek gaze scouring the room from beneath the dishevelled bangs he'd never combed that morning. "Fine, but... before I say anything, you've gotta promise not to get mad. 'Cause y' know... I heard about that whole Chitose thing." He flinched when the clanging of Izumo's disruption elevated in the quiet bar.

"Oh boy, you're starting strong-"

"Wait! Just listen!" Misaki slapped his hands together and bowed his head, raising his prayer of salvation to the heavens, or his king's second in command, at the very least. "Fushimi let Tsukiyo stay the night at our place to teach her math or something and-"

"Does _he_ know about the Chitose thing?"

"Well- no. I don't think so..."

"You know, a good friend woulda warned him."

"That's not the point! You know he wouldn't care anyway!" Misaki rushed out eagerly. "The point is that, right before she left this morning, she said something weird."

Izumo's gaze tapered. "Was it _let's do this again sometime_? Because if so, you're right. That's entirely inappropriate."

Misaki seemed to have run out of fuel as his thoughts began to amble back to the sight of his list with each name on it, helping him to draw the conclusion he thought he had hoped to see. "This morning, I asked her why she joined HOMRA, and she told me that it was because she needed a place to belong." Izumo didn't seem surprised by his divulgence, but he wasn't sure if that comforted him or not. "Ever since I first met her, I've never had to question how she got her nickname as our hunter. She's definitely tough and maybe a bit intimidating."

"A bit?"

"Yeah, a bit!" he snapped bitterly.

Izumo turned his full attention to the boy once more. "So, what seems to be the problem then?"

"I'm not tryin' to be mean or anythin'..." Misaki's voice was small when he finally spoke again. "I just... don't think that she belongs here, that's all."

Izumo couldn't help but smile as he watched the young man continue to stir as if he'd regretted ever speaking the words out loud. At first, he snorted in consideration of the irony, but soon, he began to laugh. That seemed to get Misaki's full attention. "Ain't that cute."

"Huh?"

Izumo straightened and adjusted his shades with a knowing smile. "You don't think she belongs here because she's a woman, right?"

"Well, I-"

Izumo interrupted his nervous prattle with a deep sigh. Not so long ago, he had faced the same dilemma, embrace the young lady as one of his own, or take it up with Mikoto. Seeing as the latter didn't get him very far, all that was left was to call her his. "Take it from me, kid. You're barkin' up the wrong tree." He stared out into the still storefront thoughtfully, his pride forming words for him. "That woman has just as much right to be here as any of us do." He closed his eyes in reminiscence. "You think she's savage, huh? Well, maybe you're not wrong. There's certainly more than a little beast in that beauty, for sure, but that beauty's not just skin deep. Same goes for the beast, I guess."

He returned his attention to the humbled boy sitting across from him. "She made this place her own, just like anyone else." He raised one arm from the bar's surface and directed Misaki's attention to the sign hanging by his front door. "Y' see that sign out there that you pass every time you step foot in here? It's just as much a warning as it is a welcome. This is our place, our pride. The marks on our skin aren't just for show, they're burned into our spirits, and they make us one. Get it?"

Through wide eyes filled with wonder, Misaki dropped his sights to his collar, gently peeling his shirt back to admire his mark. "Our place..." He immediately felt the burn of guilt, flooding his face as he diverted his attention with self-loathing. A part of him had understood what Izumo was saying before the words ever had to be said, but maybe that's why it made him so angry to hear them. The way she talked and laughed with the older members, even the way she clicked with Saruhiko, it hurt him because he knew that he couldn't be a part of their enjoyment. _That_ was his problem, and he had nothing to blame but his weakness.

Izumo's expression softened fondly. "I'm gonna tell you somethin' that came straight outta her mouth the night we found her, and I want you to listen close, okay?" He smiled in response to the boy's sombre head nod. "That night, she told Totsuka that our king made her feel hope that one day she could break free of fate to live the life she chose for herself. Whether we believe she should be here or not, it's not our choice to make."

Misaki bowed his head with shame. "So, what you're sayin' is suck it up and deal."

Izumo's expression lightened energetically when the sentiment behind their exchange was shared. "You got it," he hummed chipperly. "Try thinkin' of her as one of the guys." Misaki didn't speak, but he also didn't seem to accept the man's suggestion. "If you need any help reminding yourself that she can take care of herself, just look at that list you've come out of this with. It should tell you all you need to know." Izumo snickered when Misaki raised his downtrodden expression to meet his, and the well-informed barkeep sympathized with him entirely. "If you want to keep an eye on her, I don't blame ya, but know that one day when you find yourself in a jam, she's gonna have hers on you too. You might wanna practice talkin' to her so you can thank her properly when that time comes."

Misaki snorted softly for his doubts. "Yeah, right. Fushimi's always gonna be there first."

Izumo redirected his sights to where a customer entered his bar, leaving Misaki with one last piece of advice in parting. "I sure hope you're right, Yata," he murmured fondly in reminiscence. "'Cause I know from experience how shitty it feels when that kid proves you wrong."


	3. Kala

**Kala**

* * *

Out of all the pastimes Tatara had dabbled in over the years, juggling had never been one of them. That had become quite clear when he pushed open his front door, losing half of his paper bag's contents after a desperate scramble to avoid it. Luckily, the only things that made contact with the tile at his feet were a couple of durable root vegetables, but he was still a little embarrassed that he managed to miss them.

He laughed softly despite himself and set the bag on the counter with his keys. "Nei-chan! I'm home early!" he called out spiritedly. "Now that we're done celebrating, I thought you and I could have an early supper and then go out to the waterfront where you like to-" His gaze faltered as he clicked on a light, realizing that it would be the first light on in the apartment. His lively spirit wilted as he took a shallow step towards the empty rooms. "Where you like..."

Even if it was his birthday that day, he was sure that Kōsuke had gone home before Neirah so that his parents wouldn't worry about him. It was unlikely that she had stayed behind. But as he wandered around their apartment, he found it feeling eerily vacant. Once he had settled that he was alone, his gaze instinctively drew to her handwriting on a note pinned to their refrigerator door beneath a magnetic good fortune cat. He met the feline's delighted smile, but his brow knotted with more concern than the cat reflected. With a heavy heart, he slipped the note from its binding and considered its words:

_Tat-chan, _

_ I thought I'd stay out again tonight, so don't bother making too much food for supper again, or we'll have too many leftovers! See you soon!_

_ Lion-chan _

It even surprised him as his smile began to fade, and his tapered gaze stared at the note like he was awaiting an apology. It had been weeks since they had spent any real time together, and he was starting to feel the strain on their relationship. Before he knew it, his mild grip on the colourfully printed paper was clenching, and he had to set it down to avoid the unsettling sight of it crumpling. Instead, he heaved a settling sigh, ignoring the way it trembled upon expulsion as he pulled out his phone.

Tatara replaced the lazy smile on his face and leaned back, his free hand scratching at the clean countertop behind him. They hadn't had any meals together to dirty it lately, and something about that teased the void spreading in his chest. He listened to the phone ring a couple of times and, like every one prior, his heart had beat a little faster with every ring it took her to pick up on the other end. He missed the days where it was always the first.

In a bright, high-rise apartment across town, Neirah startled to the sound of her phone jingling in her jacket pocket. She quickly turned over her shoulder towards the door where she'd left it, her eyes wide with worry.

"Everything okay, Tsukiyo?" Yō cocked a brow as he watched her dive across the room, fumbling on the laminate floors in her sock feet so that she could clatter into the coatrack. He closed his lips around the smouldering cigarette hanging from his mouth and tipped his nonchalant shrug towards where he handed Masaomi the lighter from his breast pocket. "That your boyfriend's ringtone?"

Masaomi's impatient growl jeered Yō's insinuation. "Dumbass. You know that her phone only rings when Totsuka calls it."

Panting her shortness of breath, Neirah retrieved her mobile and held it to her chest, trying not to sound like she'd been fleeing for her life moments before she picked it up. While she did that, she turned her sheepish smile back to her friends. "I'm sorry, that must have seemed strange."

As he tucked the lighter into his pocket, Masaomi smiled at her like he had been the one exhausted for the effort she spent to get to her phone. He could appreciate how cute it was that she took the time to apologize for her oddities while it was still ringing in her hand. "To be honest, it's kind of considered normal now."

Neirah chuckled under the breath she caught as she returned to the table where they had been snacking on takeout in warm conversation. "I guess this means that Tat-chan must have found my note," she calmly explained. She reclaimed her seat on the coloured cushion she was occupying and raised her phone to her ear to accept the call.

Yō immediately crawled halfway over the table with a look of alarm on his face. "Wait! Nē-chan, don't tell him where you are!"

"Good evening. This is Tsukiyo." Neirah giggled softly and shooed Yō's concern away, turning the side of her head with her device attached away from his greedy fingers. The act made him come off like a cat batting at the glittery HOMRA charm dangling from her phone case.

"It took you a long time to answer," Tatara started playfully. "You must be having a lot of fun."

Neirah's smile broadened like she had caught his positivity through the phone even as her free palm pressed against Yō's brow in defence of her PDA. "I don't know how much fun you think dinner time can be, but I suppose it isn't unenjoyable." She quickly leapt out of her seat, releasing Yō to crash on the other side of the table with a bitter curse. All Masaomi did to aid their circumstance was raise their takeout boxes off of the slab Yō barreled over while Neirah pranced away. He was silently relieved that the woman seemed to have less than no romantic interest in his friend because he was sure that, without him to third-wheel, their relationship would spell disaster.

Tatara flinched when he heard the thud of dead weight striking something on the other end of their conversation. "Nei-chan, what was that? Are you alright?"

She popped up onto the couch and gratefully received her food container from Masaomi as he passed to claim the armchair beside. Steadying the box between her socked feet, she reburied her chopsticks into the container and pulled out a piece of chicken. As Yō twitched in defeat against the floor where she'd left him, her fond response to Tatara uttered behind a mouthful of food. "Mn, that was the sound of Chitose-kun wiping out on the floor," she teased delightedly. "And believe it or not, he's sober."

Tatara barely managed to stifle his disappointed groan as his posture went slack. "You're with Chitose tonight, huh?"

"Yep. Dewa-kun is here too, though, so you don't have to worry."

Tatara heard some muffled rattling and a couple of Neirah's disapproving whines sounding distant against the receiver before her voice had been replaced by Masaomi's. "She's lying. Send backup."

With a low growl, Neirah swatted her instigating comrade to reclaim her phone. "Don't listen to Dewa-kun. He's doing a fine job on his own."

Masaomi's voice was the one that sounded distant when it repeated over the line. "Tag out, Totsuka-san. I'm seriously exhausted."

Neirah whirled to face her devious companion with a bitter growl. "Stop it! You're going to worry, Tat-chan!"

Tatara's head bowed, but he still raised his gaze towards the ceiling like what he truly wanted to do was roll his eyes, and his smile seemed to relax in the slightest around his response. "Oh, I wasn't worried," he reassured her soundly. "I know you and Chitose are close, and if you think Kusanagi-san doesn't know that you two spend time together behind his back, you're wrong."

She giggled before clamping her phone between her ear and shoulder so that she could pick up her food, digging into the bottom where the noodles were starting to get cold. "That's probably the reason that I'm not afraid to tell you the truth about where I am."

"And how does _he_ feel about your honesty?"

Neirah tilted her gaze towards where she left Yō by the table, and she laughed when she noticed he hadn't moved yet. "Well, I'm pretty sure he's already playing dead so, could I be so bold as to ask a favour?"

Tatara's smile remained, but the loneliness returned to his voice as he lowered it in response. "You don't want me to tell Kusanagi-san."

She caught the sound of emptiness filling her friend's kind voice, her demeanour beginning to sink. She almost immediately lost her appetite, so she set down her food and took her phone back into her hand. "Yeah..."

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause between them that had him shifting uneasily in their kitchen. Tatara felt like there were many things he wanted to say, but his mind couldn't form the words to describe what he was feeling in his heart. Rather than dwelling on this, he continued so that she could get back to her evening out. "Anna-chan is excited about your playdate tomorrow," he diverted casually. Finally, a genuine laugh emitted on his side of the conversation to light it up. "I wish I could say the same for Yata-chan. He thinks you'll teach Anna strange habits."

Neirah's expression softened fondly. "Oh yes, like self-defence and situational awareness. Shame on me."

To the sound of her playful quip, Tatara began to relax and return her fervour. "Go easy on her, okay, Lion-chan? She's still really young, and after all that happened with the centre-"

"Tat-chan, I'm not grooming her to be the Queen of Blood and Battle. I'm taking her out for ice cream." She rolled her eyes over her brilliant beam when she heard Masaomi stifle his laughter so that he didn't choke on his takeout. "See? Even Dewa-kun thinks that is utterly absurd."

"I know, I know, I just-"

"You say the most ridiculous things sometimes." She snorted curtly and twisted up her pout as she poked around the bottom of her food. "And you tell Yata to mind his own business, or I'm going to make sure I get up in his when my date's over."

There was another long pause on Tatara's end. "Wait... you don't mean with Chitose-?"

"Anna, Tat-chan!" she bayed friskily. "I'm going to go now, okay? I think Dewa-kun is checking Chitose's pulse. Promise you won't tell Onii-san?"

Tatara stepped away from the counter and started haphazardly putting his groceries away around their modest kitchen. At least, he was pretty sure it was still theirs. "If that's what you want, I heard nothing. I hope that's enough to keep Chitose from dying of fear."

Neirah climbed with a languid stretch, and her cheeks flushed with the familiarity that she'd been missing. "It's good enough for me." Longing stole her expression as she diverted her gaze out the window into the beautiful night sky, and from how high up she had been, she could see the bright moon reflecting off the water. The season for walking beneath the shedding cherry trees was drawing to a close, and she hadn't made it once.

She shook off the disappointment and turned away from the fantasy. "I'm sorry if you had plans for dinner already."

"It's fine, it's fine," he dismissed optimistically. "We can always live off leftovers."

"Yeah," she whispered tenderly. "I'll see you later, okay? Goodnight, Tat-chan."

Tatara's smile was fading as he reached out and laid her note on top of the growing pile on the counter. His voice was gentle with longing as he tried not to dwell on the fact that _see you tomorrow_ had turned into the distant and ambiguous _later_. "Goodnight, Lion-chan." He flopped his arm beside himself, gently disconnecting his phone as he stared into her artistic handwriting. "Come home soon, okay...?"

* * *

One year ago, on the beautiful day ahead of them, Neirah had become a member of Mikoto's Red Clan. During that year, she had grown from a frightened schoolgirl into a confident young woman who was ready to set a proper example for her younger clansmen. Not only did the pale hand in hers belong to a younger clansman, but she was a young lady who'd seen way too much for her age. As bitter as Neirah had been about the youth stolen by fate, she didn't want to let that anger govern the beautiful day she had planned for the two. It had taken forever to get Anna to agree to a date without Mikoto, so long that Neirah was willing to suggest that he join them. But Mikoto had required a break just as much as Anna needed to spend time with another woman. With a little help from Izumo, they'd managed to segregate the two for the afternoon.

Since her aunt no longer recognized her, Neirah had become the only female Anna could look up to, and that should have probably put more stress on Neirah than it did. But the truth was, she was glad that they had managed to encourage the exchange. She had been spending so much time with her rowdier friends that she was afraid she might start to forget some of the more delicate pleasures in life. It was hard enough remembering to dance now and then when every turn drew blood at the tip of a blade.

She bowed her head to observe the sweet, emotionless dove at her side, admiring the shine in her hair as it whisked back behind her from beneath her little top hat. She was a lovely child and nothing that Neirah should have even thought of fleeing from months before. Sure, she was a little strange, a little damaged, but maybe the reason why Neirah took so much pleasure in her company was that they had so much in common. Sadness filled Neirah's tender smile when she thought about the misfortune that they had inadvertently brought their families. But even if the conversations were few and far between, at least Neirah still had a father and an aunt to tell she loved on occasion.

Anna only had HOMRA, and that was a family that Neirah was eager to share.

Catching notice of Neirah's lingering stare, Anna fussed beneath the pressure before connecting their gazes. The timid look in her eyes still healed, and it showed through, every once in a while, when Anna strayed from Mikoto's side. Whereas Neirah had worked over the past year to build strong relationships with their fellow members, Anna seemed to instantly bond with their king in a way words couldn't quite explain. And Neirah didn't care to try. She was delighted to have a little sister, and the thought made her expression brighten upon connecting with Anna's. "Is something the matter, Anna-chan?"

Anna's large eyes remained fixed, and her porcelain features void of expression as she considered the woman's words. Then, before answering, her gaze dropped slightly to where Neirah's right breast swelled past her low neckline to flash HOMRA's ownership. She didn't seem to note much interest as Neirah watched her face, but at that moment, she felt the doll's grip on her fingers tighten slightly.

"Your skin is marked," Anna whispered. "It's Mikoto's."

Neirah seemed confused by the girl's sudden interest in the stain they shared, and because it was too complicated to figure out her train of thought, she asked outright in the best way Neirah knew how. "Of course, it is," she doted. "We all have one."

Neirah's gaze remained fixed on Anna's even as the Strain continued to watch the bustling street pass. "I don't."

It was Neirah's hand to falter in Anna's hold when she considered the child's calm admittance. "You don't? Are you sure?" She turned away from the child and moaned gently in dismay. "But… what does that mean?"

"It's okay." Neirah turned her unknowing gaze back towards Anna, who jerked lightly on Neirah's hand like she was trying to reassure her. "I don't mind." Although it didn't find her lips, Neirah was sure she could see the smile in Anna's eyes as she continued. "But yours is lovely."

Even if they couldn't share it, Neirah let a gentle smile find her mouth. Her king was a complicated man, but the hardest hearts could fall to Anna's charm. "Thank you." Neirah wished she could put more emphasis on the tender sentiment as she spoke. It was a little embarrassing that the monotonous girl beside her was doing a better job than her without making an effort. "Onii-chan teases me about showing it all the time and tells me to cover it up, but I don't want to."

"Misaki likes to show his too."

There was a falter in Neirah's step as she caught a bitter snarl in the back of her throat before it escaped to dampen the mood. "Yes, well, I was here before him, so that would mean he's copying me. How petty."

"Neirah is a pretty red when she is jealous."

Neirah groaned her defeat. "And here Onii-chan said it was an ugly shade..."

Anna's eyes widened slightly to her companion's dull murmur, and her delicate grip faltered around tanned fingers. "He did?"

It forced Neirah to be quick on her feet as she reclaimed both of her hands to wave in front of her flushed face. "Oh no, he didn't mean the red. He meant the jealousy." She knelt in front of the girl with a sheepish smile. "I don't think Kusanagi-san would ever speak poorly of our red."

Without blinking, Anna reached out and laid one of her soft palms against Neirah's cheek, admiring the way her dark skin stood out against cashmere fingers. "Your blush is the deepest red," she marvelled fondly. "Pretty."

Neirah smiled beneath the girl's kind embrace and leisurely slipped a small tube from her pocket. She lowered her gaze, unscrewing the cap to withdraw the sleek wand of her favourite lip gloss. "Here, hold still," she purred gently. She carefully reached out and dabbed Anna's thin lips. When she finished, she squeezed the wand back in its holster and pressed her lips together to encourage Anna to mimic her instruction. When she had, Neirah popped her lips and let them curl into a smile. Anna's pop was much quieter, and she didn't smile, but that brightness in her eyes had returned like someday they may see one. "There you go. We've been walking into the wind all this time. We don't want your lips to get chapped."

The fair Strain's tiny pink tongue flashed ever slightly to taste the shimmer before her enlightened gaze locked on Neirah's. "Strawberry."

"Mn, with some vanilla too," she chanted. "I forgot that I wear this over lipstick sometimes, though, so it made your lips a little redder." She turned and watched fondly as the girl scampered towards a storefront window to peek her reflection. Sure enough, between the hands she'd pressed up against the glass, her vibrant lips were painted her favourite colour over an ivory face reflecting in the window. She gasped and turned to face Neirah again like she might have wanted to show excitement.

Neirah responded by painting a broad smile over her freshly glossed pout to match as she lingered outside their destination. The bright sun shimmered off her fiery highlights, and she tugged on her wild tresses to stop the breeze from dragging them across her sticky lips. "Well? Should we go inside?"

Anna cooed softly and tipped her head immediately, realizing they'd made it to the sweet shop that Neirah had promised her.

"The first time Kamamoto-kun brought me here, I thought of you," Neirah tenderly explained as she ushered the child out of the windy street. "They have the sweetest gelato and the brightest coloured flavours." She felt herself getting giddy just thinking about it. "And the finest milk candies in town."

Neirah let the girl enter and gravitate immediately towards the red and pink section in the store arranged by candied colours of the rainbow. It was a shop where even adults could reclaim some of their childish wonders, and Neirah knew when she saw Anna hasten her step that she'd found something she wanted. The sugary treat didn't look like a sucker at all. It looked like a fighting betta fish had just leapt out of its bowl, ready to attack with its long crimson fins flared. The artesian treat looked almost too good to eat, but it had the youth salivating eagerly.

With a fond tut, Neirah approached and knelt by her side. "I can tell this is the one." She picked the white stick out of the foam base and handed it down to Anna. "Pick anything you like, okay? It's my treat."

"This is fine." Her voice was gentle as she nearly whispered through her awe-stricken expression, but Neirah could hear the gratitude in her voice.

Neirah swooned and petted the girl's long silver tresses. "Well that and ice cream, of course! That's why we came here in the first place."

She delivered Anna to the ice cream counter, and it was no surprise that she chose the brightest strawberry sorbet that she could find. Neirah was no better, though. She found the deepest green and glued her face to the glass, watching them spoon the matcha flavoured gelato into her paper cup. After laying their desserts down, next to Anna's sucker and four packs of milk candies, she paid their tab and guided them to the booth seat next to where Anna had made her handprints in the store window. She sighed blissfully and set the bowls down, laying out a napkin in case Anna spilt some on her dress. Afterwards, she slipped the girl a pink packet of strawberry milk candies. "I know you said just the fish, but I think you'll enjoy these too."

"Thank you."

The thanks were a soft coo, but she felt the sincerity in her bones. The child was humble and grateful for everything given to her. There wasn't much to be said once Anna started to suck the frozen treat from her white plastic spoon, but the silence was comfortable. Neirah enjoyed watching the girl's alert gaze scan her surroundings; the store, the window, the street. As Neirah quietly slipped her little spoon from behind her lips, her brow creased whimsically, and she leaned to one side to peek under the table to confirm her suspicion. Just as she thought, Anna's little legs were bouncing energetically beneath.

Neirah continued to watch her for a moment before interrupting the quiet Strain's thoughts with a conversation. "You people-watch." She smiled towards Anna's gently inquisitive hum. "It's one of my favourite things to do."

Anna seemed to be intrigued. "It is?"

Neirah nodded musically and chomped delightedly on her tableware. _Mhm_. She set her paper cup down and turned to look out into the busy street. "I think you and I are kindred spirits. Fate had a hand at taking everything away from us before leading us to the same place, the same people. I think it did that so we could be friends." An overwhelming sense of pride made Neirah's expression twist simultaneously with sadness and delight when she watched Anna intently absorb her example. "I'm so glad you decided to stay."

Anna seemed to contemplate her feelings for a moment before nodding her head in agreement with something. "Do you think Misaki would be angry if I called you Onē-san?"

Neirah's brow knotted over her smile despite the warmth spreading throughout her heart. She didn't believe that anybody could be angry with Anna. Whereas their fellow members had regarded Neirah as a sibling of sorts, they approached Anna differently, perhaps even delicately. She called everyone intimately by their given name, even a reluctant Misaki. That seemed to work for her. And although Neirah wasn't particularly fond of the address out of Saburōta, she had to admit that the thought of it coming from Anna thrilled her. It reminded her of the feelings she had the first time Tatara had called her _Nei-chan_. Even if it wasn't how he meant it, it made her shallow world detonate. "I somewhat doubt it."

Just when Neirah thought that her heart was going to explode with the overflow of sentiment filling the café, Anna casually spoke. "Why don't you go home anymore?"

Neirah nearly choked on the small taste of green tea she savoured to the blunt and sudden remark to slip past Anna's painted lips. She knew that if the Strain asked anything personal, it was rhetorical because if she was asking, she already knew the answer in her subject's heart. It made it hard for Neirah to stammer out a response. Instead, she bought time to come up with something appropriate. "I-I'm sorry?"

Anna turned her bright garnet gaze to lock on her company, and even if the woman was far from intimidating, Neirah still felt interrogated. "Tatara and Izumo were talking about it last night; how you haven't come home for a long time."

Neirah immediately dropped her gaze, prodding her dessert until the smooth gelato became soup-like in consistency. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she admitted briskly. "He tells those two everything."

"Onē-san is angry with Tatara?"

Neirah immediately shook her head to deny the very thought. "No! No, I could never..." Her voice trailed solemnly. "Absolutely not." She gathered her feelings for a moment and arranged them in a way that she thought she might be able to explain the situation to the sharp-witted youth. "Tat-chan is special, though. He is a breed of kindness and caring that doesn't seem to exist in this world anymore."

"On top of that, he has this gift that seems to guide him to people who need his help. Now that I've found hope again, I want him to be free to find someone else who needs his hand to show them the way." Neirah smiled back meekly. "I don't want to be a burden. I just want to be his friend."

Anna's doubtful gaze saw straight through her longing and didn't hesitate to announce it. "You miss him," she proclaimed in a faint whisper. "There is sadness on your face when you talk about it."

Neirah raised her eyes to meet Anna's, and then her short gaze had dipped beneath the thick cover of her eyelashes. "I'm selfish, aren't I?" she murmured grimly. Suddenly, the pride she felt for setting an example for their new arrival had faded into misery as the youth lectured her instead. "It feels greedy, to want to be near him all the time. But the truth is, I'm happiest by his side. I thought that maybe I could bridge the gap by spending time with our friends, but it only seemed to grow."

She looked down into her palm as it pulled some lint from a pocket in place of a reassuring note. "Now, when I look at him, I feel like he's far away. And I made it this way."

"It's not selfish to love." Anna didn't recoil to the sight of Neirah's shuddering with the impact of her straightforward statement. "The love that Onē-san and Tatara have is strong. It should be protected." She closed her eyes, holding her folded hands to the centre of her chest with a nearly blissful sigh. "Like our red."

Neirah watched the girl for a long moment before tearing her weakened gaze away with a gentle attempt at laughter. "Oh, Anna-chan, you beautiful soul. Whatever did we do to deserve you?" She wasn't nearly as startled the second time when Anna shifted, dropping out of the booth to gather their empty cups. The girl responsibly delivered the remnants to the trash before returning and taking Neirah's hand in hers. It was how Neriah knew that she was ready to leave.

The silence between them had continued to remain comfortable even though Neirah's secrets had stitched to her sleeve with red thread. Something about Anna's honesty didn't seem intrusive at all, but refreshing. It made her wonder if she held the same charm when she was so bold with her fellow clansmen. She somehow doubted it.

Suddenly, Neirah's alert ears perked to the sound of music, and she quickly jolted her head towards the sound. "Anna-chan, do you hear that?"

"Music?"

Neirah's gasping smile broadened as she redirected their progress down the street. "Someone must be performing nearby! Let's go cheer them on, okay?"

"Okay."

Rushing around the corner, the sight of the young female violinist drew the pair to a stop amongst the gathering crowd. At first, Anna watched her pluck a few strings, the delicate beat filling the composer's senses as she swayed to the rhythm she had created. Soon, her toes began to tap, and her beat hastened in tempo until she drew her bow against whining strings to announce her passion. It was a beautiful melody, filled with inspirational emotion, and as Anna turned her head, she watched it infect her companion.

Neirah's eyes were bright and fixed on the sight that seemed to call to her, and Anna watched calmly as the woman's lips parted like she might put words to the music. Soon, the song in her heart seemed to take hold of her, and she was turning to face Anna with a delighted beam. "Anna-chan, would you like to dance?"

Anna seemed noticeably startled by her inquiry, which was odd for the expressionless dove. "I... don't know how."

Neirah slipped one toe frontward, closing her eyes to feel the gentle beat of their host's song. Her other foot whispered, causing the crowd to part with curious eyes wondering if the show was about to expand. Her undertone was breathless through her smile as she wove her hands among the air like she was sculpting the wind. "Neither do I." She raised one set of fingers as the violinist did the same, and they felt the same skip in their hearts before the bow met the strings and Neirah's hips smoothly swayed into the song. Wind and fire, dancing in the rain. The conductor interrupted the calm moaning of the lines to drum against the ivory case of her instrument to keep the beat, and when she opened her eyes, Neirah was giving life to the water droplets falling from her spirit.

A hopeful sadness. It was a light rain, one that made Neirah want to skip into the puddles, and even as the sunlight bathed her smiling face, she could feel the blustering torrents beating on the docks as she challenged the sea to rise. She was wind and fire. Nothing could dull her shine.

Anna's expression slightly brightened as she raised a red marble in front of her face to watch the dance unfold, and when she watched Neirah's eyes connect with the stranger playing the beautiful song to snare her, they seemed to bond instantly. The violinist didn't seem to mind sharing the stage at all, and Neirah was courteous not to steal her spotlight. In the end, the pair were enjoying their expressions through the fine arts that moved them. Something about that inspired her to look around the ring of spectators gathered. They all seemed captured by the same spell.

As the music intensified like her host was challenging her dancer to keep up, Neirah didn't disappoint. She let the notes guide her feet, and every time her heeled boots struck the street, they were within time with the music. Her acrobatics even caused some amazed gasps to fill the crowd as her feet glided over her head. When she caught the sight of Anna watching intently nearby, she approached the group to take the child's pale hands in hers.

Anna seemed alarmed, at first, and maybe a little shy. She watched the faces around her skeptically as Neirah encouraged her towards the music, right up until Neirah laid her hands against Anna's face. "Look here." Neirah's fond whisper gently encouraged her as she offered her hand, and then she let Neirah spin her once with their fingers bound above her head. When she stopped spinning, she locked her befuddled gaze with Neirah's as commanded and let the woman turn her again. "That's it! See? You can dance!"

Anna quickly turned to face the cheering crowd as they supported her attempt, and even if she didn't find the music quite as contagious as Neirah had, she did find it somewhat uplifting. She became distracted by the faces around her, and she grew dizzy. Neirah seemed to sense this and eloquently returned her to the crowd before finishing up her duet with the musician to the sounds of thunderous applause.

Shortly after, Anna had keenly watched as Neirah thanked the woman for allowing her to join her performance. She laid a considerable amount of money in the performer's violin case and turned away, leaving her new friend to wave after her retreat gratefully. With newfound energy, Neirah returned to Anna, clasped her hand and dragged her away from the sight with giddy laughter.

Neirah was so happy with the surprising venue that Anna had been the only one to realize how intently one particular gentleman had watched her performance. Anna kept her gaze locked on the man trying to break through the dispersing crowd, the reflection of the sunlight, making it hard to see his eyes behind his glasses. She could tell, even as Neirah led her away, that if the man were to catch up to them, he would bear no ill intent.

Anna finally lost the sight of the man in the crowd and dismissed it as someone interested in her big sister's phone number or something adult like that. She turned her large eyes to observe where Neirah continued to hum the melody she learned. "Did you know that woman, Onē-san? It seemed like you were friends."

"Hm? Who? That woman back there? Oh, not at all!" Neriah rubbed her thumb over the back of Anna's hand beneath hers. "This was the first time we ever met. Why do you ask?"

Anna diverted her gaze and recalled the sight of the strangers gathered around them with encouraging expressions. "When I was spinning, I saw many faces. And they all looked like friends."

"A circle of friends." Neirah murmured thoughtfully. "What a beautiful thing."

"Onē-san is a wonderful dancer."

Neirah lowered her attention to Anna's sincere compliment. "Do you really think so? Tat-chan says I look like I'm dancing when I fight, so It's hard to take him seriously. Sometimes he says the most ridiculous things."

Nearby, a young man bounded down the sidewalk after them with his arm raised high in the air. "Tsukiyo! Tsukiyo, hey, wait!"

Neirah's once dreamy expression hardened, and her instincts saw Anna encouraged behind her back as she spun to face the approaching disturbance. Soon, her guard dropped, and Anna could sense the threat of danger fading as she clung to Neirah's thigh. It was the man with neat brown hair she'd seen trying to break through the crowd earlier.

Neirah's expression seemed to soften, but the warmth in her tone had begun to fade in the man's address. "Okazaki-san?" She wasn't sure why she posed his name as a question. She certainly hadn't had a hard time recognizing him. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Gin straightened with a relieved grin, filled with appreciation that she remembered his name. "Forever, it seems," he sang fondly. "I saw you dancing back there! At first, I wasn't sure it was you, but I remember your jacket. You were wearing it the last time I saw you with your boyfriend."

Anna tilted her head curiously to one side before looking up at her keeper. "Onē-san has a boyfriend?" She raised her innocent hum towards Neirah's anxious prattling. "Does Izumo know him?"

"No, no, that's wrong." Neirah turned away from their confused guest to assure Anna of the truth. "Kamamoto-kun and I were out for lunch. Okazaki-san misunderstands."

"Rikio is your boyfriend?"

Neirah groaned impatiently. "And now, Anna-chan misunderstands." She heaved a deep sigh and returned her full attention towards Gin. "That was unnecessary."

"So last time I saw you, you were with a man who wasn't your boyfriend even though he acted like it." His calculated expression didn't match the relieved swell in his heart to realize that she wasn't tethered too intimately to the man he encountered previously. He turned his consideration towards the child at Neirah's hip. "And this little girl calling you Onē-san? Is she actually your little sister, or am I being deceived a second time?"

Neirah shifted uneasily with a bleak huff. "I never tried to deceive you in the first place," she assured him softly. "It's a rather complicated situation."

Vague desperation seemed to fill him as he took a step forward and laid one hand against his heart. "I'm willing to understand! I would have asked you these things before but you... After our first year of high school, you were just gone." He surrendered to the intensity of his posture and caught the feeling like his prying might be unwelcome. "You stopped studying with me, and then all of a sudden you stopped showing up entirely." His voice cracked with disdain. "I guess I never really expected you to just drop out like that."

"I didn't drop out." Surprisingly, Neirah's tone had softened, and a sense of regret washed over her. "Okazaki-san, I transferred to Ishikawa Technical Institute this semester. I didn't drop out."

Gin's expression seemed to flash hints of betrayal. "A technical school? But why? I mean, you didn't say anything."

Neirah's expression contorted expectantly. "I didn't realize I needed your permission."

Gin raised his docile gaze back to hers and urged her to reconsider his intentions. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just thought, well, since we've known each other since middle school, you might mention it, at the very least." His expression dropped as he adjusted his glasses sheepishly against the bridge of his nose. "I sort of thought we were friends."

Neirah's expression softened, and just as she was about to suggest that he leave, Anna was tugging on her jacket. "Hm? What's wrong, Anna-chan?"

"He was in the circle."

The simple sentiment was quiet, and Gin might not have realized its significance at first, but when he saw Neirah smile down at the child, his heart started to race. Whatever the girl wanted to convey seemed to get across to the woman next to her, and soon, she was turning her eyes back on their unexpected guest. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry," she murmured kindly. "That was rude of me."

"N-no, it was definitely my fault! I didn't mean to say-"

"Would you like to do lunch sometime?" Neirah turned and smiled down at Anna brightly as the knowing Strain met her enthusiasm. "There's a place nearby to get great tonkatsu, and I even know this cute little candy shop where we can go for dessert."


	4. Keek

**Keek**

* * *

_**April 24th, 2009 10:15 pm**_

Izumo watched as Tatara lingered quietly at his bar. That wasn't unusual. Tatara had spent plenty of time loitering around the premises, but recently, the expressions he carried with him when he was alone were beginning to instil a feeling of pity. The eager smile, he flashed time and time again, was starting to look forced when he was alone like his deep thoughts were trying to convince him that everything would work out in the end. The best Izumo could describe it was to compare Tatara to a misplaced pup. Without his king to feed his confidence, he was lost. At that moment, the man looked so deep in thought that Izumo was afraid to trigger an explanation. Unfortunately, their king had unintentionally done that the moment he stepped through the front door. And like a dog missing his boy, Tatara's expression brightened with the metaphorical wagging of his tail.

Mikoto paused, turning to observe the faces that whirled to address him like meerkats from the bar. He slowly considered one, and then flopped his cigarette to the other side of his mouth as he addressed the other. His drawl was low and detached as he muttered it through tight teeth. "Who do I have to burn?"

Tatara's amused laughter successfully drowned out the sound of Izumo's irritated sigh. "That's the first place you go?"

Mikoto snorted and continued to press his entry. "I thought you and the kid were gonna go do somethin' tonight for her birthday or whatever."

"King, Nei-chan's birthday was two weeks ago, don't you remember? Today was Fujishima's birthday."

"I can't believe you didn't even realize whose birthday it was..." Izumo groaned. "His name was even on the cake."

Mikoto shrugged and sat on the bar seat next to Tatara, but instead of facing his smart-assed second, he sat facing the front door instead. He hitched one elbow up against the bar as his other hung limply by his side. "Still doesn't explain why you're back here so soon."

Tatara sighed and tried to remain as cheerful as possible as he described the situation to the man next to him. "Exactly one year ago today was when we first met Nei-chan so I wanted to celebrate that with her. I know sometimes she feels like a burden, but I wanted to let her know that we're grateful to have her in our lives. I got everything I needed to make her tonkatsu too. I know it's her favourite meat dish."

"But," Mikoto pried bluntly.

"_But_ she wasn't home when I got there. I guess she's staying out again." He turned his hopeful grin towards his king. "You aren't hungry, are you? Because it looks like I made extra."

Mikoto titled his head over the one shoulder he leaned on the bar behind him to connect their gazes. "I could eat."

Feeling like the other two were making light of a situation that may have required their attention, Izumo stepped in to moderate the flow of the conversation. "Totsuka, did you two have a fight?"

With a faint groan, Tatara laid his folded arms against the bar next to his king's. "I don't think so."

His ambiguity made Izumo's face knot. "You don't sound too sure."

They hadn't taken notice, but upon hearing Mikoto return from his stroll, Anna had risen from her bed and padded her way quietly down the stairs. When she listened to the grim tone of the conversation unfolding around the corner, she remained concealed so she wouldn't scare them away from a potentially important subject. She waited quietly just outside the room instead.

Tatara sighed and dropped his defeated expression. "I'm not," he admitted bleakly. "Between school and whatever she's been up to recently, she's not around much for me to read her. I used to be pretty good at it. Maybe that's why she's avoiding me..."

Mikoto put pressure on the elbow he kept on top of the rosewood, his incredulous leer leaning back so that he could examine Tatara's tilted face as he spoke. "I thought you said you were happy about her spendin' time with everyone else."

"Of course, I am..." Tatara's thoughts grew distant as he considered the weight that he'd been carrying on his chest. "I'm not upset about that part at all, but... I'm not exactly happy about it either." Tatara thought he was brave enough to face Izumo's curiosity, but he realized almost immediately after connecting their gazes that he wasn't. "Sorry, I wish I could make it clearer, but it's pretty hard to explain. I mean, how are you supposed to feel when someone who's been there every day for so long… just isn't there anymore?" He found it ironic that the day he wanted to celebrate their nearness was the day he felt the most distant.

Tatara started to fidget in his seat, alarming himself with the undertones of their conversation. "I still worry about her sometimes. I remember how scared she was when we first found her and how hard it was for her to sleep. What if she needs me, and I'm not there?"

"It's kinda unfair to put that on yourself when you have no control over what she does," Izumo interjected reasonably. "And before you ask for my help, I already fired off a vaguely worded message to the boys that's sure to smoke out which one of 'em's abetting our little lion."

"You probably shouldn't have done that," Mikoto cautioned him evenly. "You know she's-" Mikoto hushed to the sight of Izumo's raised index finger when the bartender's phone notified him to an incoming message.

Announcing the result through ground teeth, Izumo began to wring his mobile in his palm. "Son-of-a-bitch, Chitose. I swear, one of these days, I'm gonna break his hands so that he learns to keep them to himself."

Mikoto rumbled something akin to a chuckle even as he groaned his exhaustion. "He's persistent. I'll give him that."

To the sound of his king's amusement, Tatara laughed too. "Come on, Kusanagi-san. Don't be like that. If Nei-chan didn't feel comfortable around him, she wouldn't put herself in that kind of situation." Reassurance filled Tatara's tone as he turned and smiled back at Mikoto. "Besides, Dewa is with them too, so I'm pretty sure we don't have anything to worry about."

Izumo's grim expression fell on their optimistic peacekeeper. "So, you knew where she was all along."

Guilt flooded Tatara's pleading expression. "Sorry, she told me not to tell."

With a hearty sigh, Izumo turned the culmination of his focus onto Tatara's worrisome fidgeting. "She's got you right where she wants you, Totsuka."

His low admittance had startled Tatara into dampening his expression. "How do you mean that?"

A casual smile crossed Izumo's face. "If you wanted to know what I think, I'd tell ya that I'm pretty sure she's just doin' this for the attention." He raised his eyes to meet Tatara's as his confident proclamation passed between them. "That kid wants nothin' more than to be the centre of your world. When she's not around, you worry. She likes that. Probably makes her feel important."

Tatara considered Izumo's words, but the longer he thought about them, the more twisted his face had become. "No, I don't think that's it at all..." He turned his attention swiftly towards Mikoto in hopes that their king would break the tie. "King, what do you think?"

Mikoto snorted lightly and climbed to his feet. It was irritating how the pair overcomplicated everything that had to do with the first female he'd ever extended his hand to in invitation. In Mikoto's eyes, she wasn't any different than the rest of their clan. Everyone had a story, everyone had their weaknesses, everyone had their place, and that would always be the one thing they shared. Their home was HOMRA. "I think you're both readin' into it too damn much. Just let the kid live a little, would you?"

Izumo seemed surprisingly accepting of Mikoto's natural confidence. "You know what? He actually might have a point. Whether she's doin' it for the attention or not, it's not like she's out pickin' up strange men off the streets. She's been with us the whole time."

Tatara was slightly wounded that the two of them had seemed to challenge his concern. "But-"

"But the problem here isn't Neirah, is it?" Mikoto's sharp gaze didn't falter as Tatara turned to face him squarely, and they communicated beyond words.

After lingering long enough to catch Mikoto's intent, Tatara lowered his sheepish smile with a slight blush in his cheeks. "You might be right..." He laughed, but it wasn't as confident and musical as it usually was. It was awkward and a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry I overreacted like that. I'm sure it'll all work out."

The trio suddenly turned to face where Anna's gentle footsteps had announced her presence in the room, startling them with the realization that she had probably been listening in for some time before deciding to interrupt. "Tatara."

"Anna-chan, what are you doing out of bed?" Tatara gently reprimanded. "It's late, you know."

Anna ignored his concern and crossed the bar until she could lay her arms down in his lap. "You miss Neirah."

He wasn't sure why he rushed out a defence like the Strain hadn't seen right through him before she even spoke. "Nonsense! She and I live together. It would be strange to miss a roommate."

Anna didn't let up her approach when she spoke again. "But she is with Yō right now."

Izumo checked the message on his phone, confirming the girl's truth, and tried to practice what he'd finished preaching. He had to remind himself that even if he could be a dog at times, Yō was still practically family, not to mention someone who cared a great deal about their hunter. Surrendering to his advice, he lowered his hand and tucked his phone away without blasting the guilty party.

Tatara's expression warmed as he stroked diamond strands from the child's face. "Don't worry about it, Anna," he reassured her tenderly. "It's really quite complicated."

Izumo humbled to the sound of Tatara's quiet admittance, and he could have sworn he'd heard something similar recently. "Complicated, huh?" It seemed like Misaki's warning was coming out into the open again and forcing the gathering to consider that maybe having the woman around would never be easy. But it also made him wonder if maybe Mikoto was right. Though, something deep inside him begrudged admitting it.

"Neirah looks at Tatara with sad eyes." The trio shifted, turning their faces to where Anna had diverted hers and begun to fidget in Tatara's lap. At first, she felt pressured to continue, and that startled her, but after a temporary silence, she continued willingly. "I can see her loneliness when she smiles. She misses Tatara too."

Mikoto seemed to be vexed by the young Strain's theory. "If she misses him, why doesn't she just go back home already?" That simple solution would have saved them the headache of having to discuss such trivial matters when he could be napping.

Anna turned her bright crimson gaze onto her king with confidence. "Because Tatara can't worry about her forever."

Izumo bowed his head with an easy smirk. "Leave it to a lady to know what a lady's feelin'."

"Sounds like a real pain in the ass," Mikoto rumbled dismally.

"This is her trying to start again," Izumo assured him soundly. "Now that she's got the past and future figured out, she's just tryin' to get by the best she knows how. I guess the same could be said for any of us. It's trial and error at this point. Maybe once she reclaims some of that independence of hers, things'll go right back to the way they were."

Tatara was unusually silent as he fussed with Anna's hair and continued to analyze the situation. "I still don't know why I had to hear this from Anna-chan. Neirah used to talk to me about these things."

Izumo shrugged indifferently. "You know how she can be. She wants to see herself as this warrior princess, remember? She's not helpless." He smiled at Tatara kindly to reassure him. "If this is what it takes for her to finally start believin' that, we should just let her be..."

* * *

_**May 2nd, 2009 4:13 pm**_

Neirah's heart was aflutter as she waited outside Izumo's bar underneath a beautiful midday sun. Quietly raising her gaze, she observed where the still sign hanging outside the front door welcomed their clansmen, but something about that familiarity carried a sense of foreboding that day. She wasn't sure what had made her feel so guilty, but she almost felt like what she was about to do was a betrayal. With a heavy sigh, she tucked her chin and observed the tribal lines of her HOMRA insignia disappearing under her white blouse as she buttoned it.

"Tsukiyo! Hey! Sorry, I'm late!"

Neirah's yelp was shrill as her fingers fumbled with the last button that she had been contemplating binding. In the end, her half attempt had rushed, leaving the entirety of her mark concealed.

She turned to face where Gin approached with a delighted smile on display, and all the colour drained from her tanned face. As he approached, babbling on about how long it took him to locate the hole-in-the-wall establishment, she was distracted by the rustling of the craft paper that wrapped around the stems of fresh flowers. Her teeth ground as she groaned and peeked towards the storefront. Initially, she'd planned on letting Izumo know who she was going to be out with by text so that nobody decided to play guard-dog to notice her with a stranger. Unfortunately, things seemed to be escalating rather quickly.

Gin shuddered, stricken by realization as he continued to rush out justifications that didn't seem to register with his friend. "Oh! And I almost forgot. These are for you!" He offered her the flowers with a bashful smile, and his coffee gaze remained gentle beneath his half-frame glasses. "I don't know if it's ever really come up in conversation, but my mom is kind of a florist. When I said we were going to spend the afternoon together, she insisted. I hope it's not weird."

Neirah knew that outwardly denying his offer would be rude, even if his mother was the mastermind. Careful not to touch his hands upon passing, she gently received the gift with a small smile. "They're lovely. Thank you." As she expressed her gratitude, she didn't raise her gaze to meet his. It was hard enough for her bold clansmen to handle the intensity of her stare, so the last thing she wanted was to intimidate the innocent civilian trying his best to be friendly. "I don't know much about flowers, but they should probably be in water, right?"

Gin raised his fingers to his side-swept bangs sheepishly and whisked them across his brow. "I did _not_ think about that," he admitted regretfully. "If not, I guess they'll be pretty wilted by the time we're done lunch."

She hummed softly in thought, trying her hardest to veil her sarcasm. "Funny that your _florist mother_ didn't take that into consideration."

He recoiled guiltily. "Eh, it's more like her hobby than her profession."

"Mm..."

The internal screaming in her head made her toes curl as she looked through the doors of the bar. There was a chance that she could slip in and pass the flowers off to Izumo to save them and emerge with only slight reprimanding. She couldn't bear the sight of her friend's disdain, but she knew she wouldn't make it out of HOMRA unscathed.

In the end, there would be no way around it. Gin would find out that she had ties to the bar, and knowing him, he would probably go home later and try to figure out what that meant. What she didn't understand was why that made her nervous. It was something she could never be ashamed of, but the idea of letting someone from her second world into her first made her nervous. It would mean that her worlds had synchronized entirely, and she didn't know if she was ready to accept that yet.

With a deep, steadying breath, she started forward. "Okazaki-san, could you wait here for just a moment? I'm going to go put these in some water."

Gin seemed startled when she walked towards the little tavern in front of them. "You are? Where? In there?" He pushed his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose in thought, and a nervous laugh caught in the back of his throat. "You're just going to ask the bartender to put your flowers in water for you while you go to lunch?"

The thought made a genuine smile creep across her face as she stopped and turned to face him again. "That's exactly what I'm going to do," she sang.

For a long moment, Gin scrutinized her fond smile. She was a pretty frigid woman, for the most part, but now and then, small things like that would brighten her expression with warmth. It made him grateful, but a little uneasy. When she turned away, he raised his gaze to the hanging sign just outside the bar marked HOMRA in large letters. Dark and winding tribal lines burnt into the wood, and although he couldn't directly compare them to the ones on her currently covered breast, he had a feeling they were probably identical.

As soon as Neirah entered the bar with her gifted bouquet, all eyes turned, and there were more than two. A large number of her team had already assembled, and she could feel her head growing light with worry. Of course, Izumo was behind the bar, one brow cocked and eyeing her from top to toe. The fact that he wasn't making a snide comment about her elegant attire had made her queasy. Tatara and Mikoto had been off on their own, and she suspected Anna was likely with them by her noted absence. Misaki and Saruhiko had become a bit of a staple in their lives since they joined, especially since they didn't have school to attend. Rikio had involved himself with Misaki before his joining HOMRA, so it wasn't a surprise to see him amongst them either. Then, there was their resident tagalong. She was pretty sure Saburōta didn't care who he was spending time with so long as they noticed he was there.

Her grip on her flowers tightened against her racing pulse as she tried to construct an explanation. Her birthday was almost a month past, and she was still a couple of years from graduation. Neirah's fingers numbed under the pressure of their strain as she considered Gin waiting outside for her, and dread cultivated within her heart. There was only one reason a young man would bring a woman flowers before they had lunch together. He thought they were on a date.

Izumo watched the turmoil boil over in their hunter's burning expression as he clicked his tongue with an easy nod. "So..." Even though his words were smooth and musical, she still flinched to the sound of him addressing her like they were ominous. "Who's your little friend out there?"

Neirah exhaled sharply, realizing that she'd been holding her breath for way too long. That casual, relaxed tone of Izumo's voice that always comforted her sounded almost sinister and filled with malice as his defensive instincts kicked in. He had crossed over into full-on big brother mode. She was so focused on trying to come up with a proper explanation that she didn't even notice Saburōta sneak up alongside her.

"Flowers?" His expression twisted beneath his large, dark shades, and he turned over her shoulder to face the fancy man on their doorstep checking his watch. Outside of anyone's comprehension, his gaze tapered vindictively. "Wait a minute- What's with the nerd?" He whirled towards the bar and raised his voice despite how near he'd been to Neirah. The elevation of his tone made her cringe. "Hey, Kamamoto! Does this guy look familiar to you? Kinda reminds me of the one you were talkin' about scaring off last fall."

Neirah's hair felt like it was standing on end, and her roots began to tingle as Rikio approached the opposite side of her to glower out the front of the store.

"No shit, it is him! Good eye, Bandō!" Rikio joined the other man in looking at the flowers in Neirah's arms. The springtime arrangement was quite stunning and filled with tender hues of pinks and ivory. That only seemed to incense her skeptical brothers further. "Wait- don't tell me..." He threw his hands up against his head and jerked on golden roots. "Not this crap again! What part of _get lost_ didn't he get?!"

"You gonna make me ask again?" Izumo murmured dryly. He tipped his peripherals towards the sharply dressed man lingering outside his bar awaiting his date. "Why don't you invite your friend inside? He could at least come in and say hello before he tries to make a move on our girl."

"What?! Who's makin' a move?!" Misaki turned in his seat to observe the sight of their unwelcome guest. "S' that the guy?"

"Yeah!" Rikio barked wrathfully. "I chased 'im off last year, and he just keeps crawlin' back!"

Saburōta snorted his disgust. "She could do better."

Misaki swung his eager gaze towards his superior. "Want me to go kick his ass, Kusanagi-san?"

"You?!" Rikio thundered. "I thought you and Neirah didn't get along?"

"Hey, piss off with that crap, ya hear?!"

"But it's true!"

Neirah could feel the pressure of the room increase, and she couldn't take it anymore. She rushed past their intense gazes and made her way around the bar. When she was near enough, she thrust her flowers into Izumo's chest, leaving him to haphazardly wrap an arm around them to keep them from falling when she released them. "Please put these in water, Kusanagi-san."

Izumo's expression darkened as he tossed the bouquet onto the polished surface of the bar and reached out to grab her collar instead. "Not so fast, Neirah," he nearly growled. "You're not going anywhere until I get a proper explanation."

Neirah's frantic gaze turned to where a nosey Misaki was rustling around the flower arrangement, and he seemed enlightened to find a little notecard buried among the baby's breath. He quickly turned to face the pair before leaning over the bar and offering the card to Izumo. "Kusanagi-san! There was a card too!"

Izumo shifted his incredulous leer towards Misaki before returning it to Neirah. "Oh, was there?"

After a quiet instant, the pair lurched to life. Neirah tried desperately to grab the card out of Misaki's hand, but the boy resisted, and with his long reach, Izumo was the one to snap it free of the instigating Misaki's hand.

Finally, the pressure released from her chest between her teeth with an outraged squeal. "Yata, you're such a rat!"

"Now, now, Neirah," Izumo sang upon opening the card for inspection. "You say that like you're keeping secrets, but you know there's only one reason why a young man would give a young lady flowers before they go off to lunch. Yata's only lookin' out for your best interest."

"Yeah! Bandō's right. Dude looks like a total nerd," Misaki argued.

Neirah whirled to face him with a flash of fire in her eyes. "So, you're protecting the assassin from the nerd."

Misaki shuddered, immediately shrinking away from her intensity. He looked like he wanted to stammer out a defence, but he ended up seeking Izumo's aid instead. "Eh- T-tell her Kusanagi-san!"

"Sit 'own; both of you," Izumo commanded. "Nobody's goin' anywhere."

"You're misinterpreting the situation," Neirah begged helplessly. "I didn't expect him to bring me flowers. It just kind of happened and- If Anna-chan were here, she would tell you! We ran into him the other day when we went out for ice cream, and she convinced me that I should pay attention to my friends who aren't in HOMRA too."

Feeling guilty, Rikio backtracked to the bar next to Misaki and offered his sheepish support. "She's right, Kusanagi-san. I met Okazaki last year. He went to middle school with Nē-" He groaned softly to the look of passionate vehemence burning in Misaki's gaze. "Uh... with Neirah."

"Then, that's another matter entirely, isn't it?" Izumo examined the contents of the notecard and then scoffed lightly. "Well, whether or not you think this is a date, Okazaki-san has other plans." He raised his gaze to hers, a casual smile on his face as he spoke. "It's settled then. You're not going."

"What!?" Neirah whimpered nervously and turned her attention to where her friend patiently waited for her to join him. "You can't just-"

Izumo snapped the card through the air between two fingers before tossing it back onto the bar like he'd been playing it as his trump. "Can't nothin'," he refuted calmly. "I'm not letting anyone take you out before you're thirty."

"He's not taking me out! This isn't a date!"

"Does _he_ know that?"

Neirah threw her hands up against her face and stifled her agitated wails. "Onii-saaan!"

"You did this to yourself, Neirah," he argued brightly. "This is just how it's gonna be. _Onii-san_ says you can't go, and if you're lucky, I won't tell your king."

Neirah's once desperate expression knotted with grit as she peeked through her spreading fingers. "You wouldn't dare."

Izumo's smile was casual but filled with warning. "Don't test me, Little Lion."

"Let me go rough 'im up a bit!" Misaki beat his fist into his opposing palm with a wicked grin. "I'll teach him to mess with HOMRA!"

"Kamamoto's right, you don't even like her," Saruhiko groaned impatiently. "What's with you getting all defensive all of a sudden?"

Misaki whirled to face the audacious man with a furious blush in his cheeks. "H-hey! I never said that!" He turned his defiant pout away from the sight. "E-even if she's a girl, s-she's still one of us."

"Alright, alright," Izumo interrupted. "I don't care who goes out there as long as it's not Neirah, so somebody better go let lover-boy down nice and easy. Kamamoto?"

Neirah's gaze flashed with venom as she whirled to face Misaki's eager interference. Without thinking, she withdrew her single throwing dart from the base of her spine and pitched it at him with lethal precision. It was something he hadn't expected from an ally, so when he noticed it coming, he grew instantly mortified.

Fortunately, Saruhiko was swift in reaching out and snagging her offence before turning to propel the momentum right back at her. Neirah's brow knotted, but she received his unspoken warning and captured her returned attack to sheath it back at the base of her spine. She could appreciate the boy's talent.

"Neirah, what did I say about playing with your knives in the bar?" Izumo drawled.

Her gaze locked with Saruhiko's bitterly as he returned to his seat like her threat was moot. "And here I thought we had something special," she nearly growled. Her nerves fired off impatiently to the sound of his detached scoff.

"W-what the hell, Tsukiyo?!" Misaki turned his pathetic prattling towards Izumo as he pointed at the woman in accusation. "S-s-she almost killed me! Again! You saw that, right?!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Izumo cautioned him. "Besides, you were asking for it, throwing her pal under the bus like that. How would you feel if everyone ganged up on Fushimi?" His casual remark seemed to cause Misaki to reflect on his brash involvement in condemning, what looked to be, a nice young man outside their bar.

"Uh, guys?" Saburōta announced nervously. "That kid with the glasses is coming this way." He darted away from the door in an attempt to act naturally. "Looks like he's done waiting."

Neirah was moments from opening her mouth when Izumo grabbed her shoulders and redirected her to face him. Without speaking, he lowered his fingers to her blouse and undid the top button so that the tail of her HOMRA insignia would show.

"You make sure your PDA is on at all times," he instructed sternly. "If you don't message me every hour on the hour, I'm sendin' out the dogs, you understand me?"

Neirah nodded rapidly and turned her gaze just in time to catch the service bell ringing upon Gin's hesitant entry. It almost made her growl with how casual her clansmen looked upon his arrival. _Snakes_, the lot of them.

"Ah, Tsukiyo?" Gin's expression warmed fondly to the sight of the woman Izumo ushered out from behind the bar. "There you are! I was starting to worry."

Neirah's stomach churned as she felt Izumo's grip on her shoulders tighten protectively. "It's fine," she nearly whispered. "My flowers should be safe while we eat." She wished that she could say the same thing about her date, though.

"Okazaki, is it?" Izumo crooned falsely. He didn't flinch despite the look of uncertainty crossing Gin's face to be addressed by a stranger. "Kusanagi." He reached past Neirah and shook the boy's hand with a tight mock smile on his lips. "I hear you used to go to school with Neirah."

Gin nodded hesitantly, feeling the threatening leer of a handful of people bearing down on him with their suspicions. "T-that's right. We were in classes together until recently when she transferred." His breath caught in his chest when he turned his gaze towards the sight of a familiar man sitting nearby, and his face flushed tensely. He'd recognized Kamamoto from the incident at a restaurant a few months back. Grasping that the hatred was still there for his interruption months prior, Gin quickly bowed towards Rikio's condemning gaze. "Oh, hello Kamamoto-san. Sorry again for interrupting last time."

Next to Saburōta, Rikio tipped his nose into the air with a curt scoff, acknowledging the gesture, but not offering it a response. Truthfully, he didn't like the man. Gin made Neirah feel uncomfortable, and anyone who did that made the top of his list.

Neirah coyly whimpered when Izumo urged her to step away from his protection. He didn't say it, but she knew he was only allowing her to go to draw the kind man out of their midst. If Gin continued to linger, Izumo understood that her protective band of brothers was going to strike. All it was going to take was for a couple more of them to liven things up, and Gin wasn't going to see any more of the light on that beautiful day.

"Have fun, you two." Izumo's focused sights honed in on their backs as they exited the bar and made their way down the street. Not three minutes later, his mobile was alerting him to a message and stamped with the turn of the hour was a note reading _thank you_. He scoffed at her efforts even though the endearment caused him to smile.

Misaki seemed outraged by the dismissal of the issue, and once Neirah was gone, he attacked. "What, you're just gonna let her go with that creep?!"

Izumo turned calm eyes to face Misaki's valiant demand, and his grin broadened. "That's right," he proclaimed. "And you're going with them, Yata."

_Ehn?!_ Misaki flinched at the sound of his command. "Wait, really?"

"Don't play coy. I know it pisses you off thinking that she's going through with this. Our girl's gotta be protected, right? So, go protect her." Izumo watched the pair disappear out of sight, and he chuckled lowly. "I want you to tail them and make sure Okazaki doesn't focus too much on the 'date' aspect of this meeting." He shifted his gaze towards Saruhiko over the sound of Misaki's devilish snigger. "You too, Fushimi. Go and make sure he doesn't kill the guy."

"Why me?" Saruhiko groaned tediously in response.

"Because you couldn't care less about her," Izumo reasoned. "Consider yourself like a damper on a fireplace, and don't let him get out of control."

Saruhiko turned away with disgust. "What a pain."

"Kusanagi-san, I'll go with Yata instead," Rikio interrupted surely. He ignored that his words made Saruhiko's body tighten and his already bitter grimace contort. "I don't like that guy, but I don't want Nē-chan to be embarrassed either."

"Then why don't you stop calling her that!?" Misaki raged. "Who the hell'd want you as their brother anyway?"

"Come on, you're just being mean now," Rikio grumbled sourly.

"It's Tsukiyo! Call her Tsukiyo!"

"That's enough," Izumo cautioned them briskly. "Quit wasting time and get after them already."

"Right," Rikio bumbled in agreement.

"On it," Misaki quipped. "Don't worry, Kusanagi-san. If he tries anything funny, we'll spill his brains all over the pavement."

Izumo didn't seem concerned as he waved after them. "Just don't get caught."

"You got it!"

Picking up Neirah's flowers, Izumo turned his pleasant expression towards Saruhiko with a relieved sigh. "He's rather fond of her, isn't he?"

Saruhiko scoffed bitterly in an attempt to distance himself from the entire ordeal. "How should I know?"

"It's like that, is it?" He pulled out a glass vase and displayed the flowers on the bar with a humbled smile. "To be honest, I don't mind her spending time with Okazaki. He kind of reminds me of Totsuka, in a way. I don't think he has it in him to hurt a fly." He chuckled to himself with the thought. "In fact, I should probably be feelin' sorry for the kid. She's gonna chew him up and spit him out."

"What are you telling me this for?" Saruhiko grumbled impatiently. "You said it yourself. I couldn't care less."

Completing his fluff of the colourful arrangement, Izumo smiled knowingly, closing his eyes as he dropped his head. "Sorry," he admitted quietly. "Old habits, I guess."

* * *

"No way! Why would Tsukiyo take him to our spot like that!?" Rikio's impatient thunder was almost loud enough to alert her sharp senses to their presence as they lingered across the street and watched the pair eat lunch in the same restaurant the three had interacted last time. "If I see her steal even one of his dumplings, I'm gonna tear the place down around 'em!"

Misaki's brow cocked in disbelief. "You let her steal your food?"

Rikio turned his doubtful attention towards his friend like his concern was misplaced. "Yeah, why not?"

"I don't know what's weirder; the fact that a tiny thing like Tsukiyo even wants your food in the first place or the fact that a fatass like you lets her get away with it."

Rikio gave a low, rumbling laugh in response. "You'd be surprised. Tsukiyo-san's got a real big appetite sometimes."

Misaki diverted his defiant pout, and his cheeks flushed with what he perceived as indifference. "Yeah, I definitely don't care."

Through his careful consideration, Rikio's brow knotted with disdain. "Why do you hate her so much?" He didn't back down to the sight of Misaki's bemused anger. "Is it just because she can take you down on all on her own?"

As severely as Misaki wanted to clobber his companion, he had to remember that they were not only in public but also, technically, undercover. "First of all, I let her kick my ass because she's a girl, and it's no good to threaten girls!"

"Then, can you really hate her for that if you don't fight back?"

Misaki lurched forward like he thought he might strike, but instead, Misaki fisted his hands in Rikio's shirt so that he could jerk him forward aggressively. "If you'd let me finish, I was just gonna say that I don't hate her, okay?! If I did, I wouldn't be staking out here waiting to smash this shithead when he gets handsy!"

Despite the hold Misaki had on his collar, Rikio diverted his disgruntled pout to the side. "Well, you don't treat her very nice," he interjected. "I mean, would it kill you to ask her how school was, or if she wants help with her homework?"

"Stop that!" Misaki snapped. "Stop babying her! Kusanagi-san is right. She has to do it for herself, or she'll never learn!"

Rikio returned his attention to the hostile spirit in front of him with deep vexation in his brow. "But aren't you kinda doin' the same thing by not fighting back and spying on her date?"

Misaki released the man and fled backwards. "N-no, I'm not! They're two completely different things!"

Brazenly, Rikio leaned forward and pressed the matter. "Yeah, and one means you care about her, so why are you pretending not to?"

Gin shuddered to the sound of a woman shrieking just outside the establishment where they were eating. When he turned to look out the window, he saw a newspaper box explode and spontaneously combust. Moments later, a small-framed young man was heaving the man he recognized as Rikio over his shoulder into the street. There was a fair amount of yelling and some bitter curses, but none of it seemed to raise the attention of his date. "A-ah... Tsukiyo? Aren't those two friends of yours? I saw both of them at that bar earlier."

Neirah sighed and slowly climbed out of her seat. "I suppose they are," she muttered softly. "Wait here. I'm going to go pay."

Gin quickly lunged out of his seat in an attempt to stop her. "Wait, no! Let me-" She silenced him with a soft, reassuring smile, and he recognized it as the kind she only used when her real friends were nearby. Something about that had made the words he wanted to say catch in his throat.

"It's fine, really," she assured him gently. "If I pay, the manager gives me a discount. Don't worry about it."

Gin groaned and reclaimed his seat, feeling defeated. He looked back out the window and watched the chaos ensue, figuring that it wasn't a coincidence that the two of them were quarrelling right in front of the restaurant where he and Neirah ended up.

When she returned, she kindly beckoned him to her side and showed him to an exit at the rear of the eatery so they would avoid the ruckus outside. By the time either Misaki or Rikio had realised that Neirah was missing, they were already long gone.

For a long time, Neirah and Gin walked in silence, distant in body and mind, despite the fact that they were out together. Gin let his soft russet gaze peek into his peripherals in hopes of instigating some form of conversation, but his date seemed reluctant to communicate with him at all. That wasn't strange. Despite his persistence, she had remained reserved since they met. In the end, he supposed he didn't know why he felt such an endearing connection to her. It seemed strange to think that some unspoken bond could develop between two people who barely communicated. The consideration made him feel foolish.

"I'm sorry."

Her gentle apology had taken him by surprise when she interrupted his thoughts with a sad tone in her voice. It made his heart sink. Every time she addressed him, it was with apprehension. It was very unlike the way she had acted with Rikio the day he caught their interactions at the restaurant they'd just left. "F-for what?"

She didn't connect their eyes as she fretted. "For my friends. They made such a fuss. I don't want you to feel like that was my doing."

He diverted his sights and thought about her words carefully, his soft fingers wringing anxiously by his side. "No, I'm the one who should be sorry." He could feel the pressure of her intense stare piercing him as he stopped in the middle of the grassy park to linger on his sentiment. "I... I've been dishonest with you, Tsukiyo. Indirectly, that is."

"About your mom?"

He cringed. "U-uh... that as well..."

Neirah's expression darkened skeptically. "That _as well_?"

He checked her shirt collar, where the tail of her tattoo peeked out from behind her blouse, and then immediately lowered his eyes with a faint blush in his cheeks. "I know who they are," he murmured nervously. "What HOMRA is."

Her paling expression flushed with nervous doubt as she stared back at her old friend. "Y-you do?"

"The last time I saw you with Kamamoto-san, I was worried about you. You stopped spending time with me, and I thought you were letting your schoolwork slide. I was worried that you got tangled up in something dangerous." He began to fidget apprehensively. "It all seemed to start when you got those tattoos, so I did some research and found out that your mark belongs to the Red Monster."

Her body defensively tightened like she'd been insulted for her clan after he referred to Mikoto as a monster. Luckily, she was able to remind herself that, to an untrained eye, maybe they did look like monsters, like animals.

"Tsukiyo, I've always cared about you, and I just wanted to see you happy. But every time I try to get close, you just seem to shut me out." He smiled meekly and tried to mask his shame. "I guess I was a little jealous when I saw you lighting up the restaurant with Kamamoto-san. I wanted you to be that happy when you were with me, because, frankly, the way your eyes light up is beautiful. When they're around, I can feel your love for them from all the way over here, and I suppose, it was nice to think that maybe someday I could feel included in that."

She finally seized his attention with hers, but her heart wasn't burning in the backs of her eyes as he had mentioned before, and it never could. Some people could make her smile from her heart, but she couldn't see Gin ever being one of them. "It's not fair," she whispered tenderly. "And I know it's not. But this is as close as you and I will ever be." Her chest ached to watch his russet gaze retreat, and she immediately flooded with guilt. "I don't know how deep your research took you, but I can tell you this; we're from two very different worlds. I thought at one point that they could intersect, but I'm still afraid. The last thing I want is to see anyone else get hurt because of me."

She moved to a park bench and took a seat, neither inviting or detouring his presence beside her. "That child I was with the other day with the silver hair, she is from the same world." She didn't raise her gaze as he claimed the unoffered seat next to her. "But she had family who wasn't, and because of that, she lost them all." She thought about her aunt, her father. She barely spoke to them, and a part of her wondered for whose benefit that was.

Somehow, that managed to get her thinking about her roommate again. It was hard for her to cherish anyone for fear of losing them, but in the end, she seemed to have a knack for pushing them away regardless. So no, it wasn't fair for her to use her curse as an excuse. The truth was that she didn't understand how to love appropriately. "Who I am, who I was, they're actually not that different." She seemed to speak the words for her benefit more than his. "But the hard truth is that it takes a very special kind of person to stand next to me." Her heart warmed to picture Tatara's smile in her heart, and soon, that fond sentiment was flooding her expression. Staving off her monotony, she turned her kind smile to face him. "I'm a lot of work and a little hard to handle sometimes."

"That's okay!" Gin rushed desperately. He reached for her like he thought he might take her hand. "I can help! I know I-" He chilled when she jerked her arm away from him and stood from the bench.

"Please don't," she whispered tenderly. It wasn't the same kind of rejection Gin had met with before. It didn't feel that way at all. "I've had bad experiences with ordinary people touching me." Avoiding a tone that might cause him to take insult to her remark, she tried to lighten the mood and let him know that there were no hard feelings about his misplaced sentiment. "Thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful."

Gin carefully watched her for a moment before quietly climbing to his feet. "Is there... someone else?" he pried. "Just now, I saw your eyes light up like I just talked about. You were thinking about them, weren't you?"

Neirah let a delighted giggle fill the space between them. "I'm sorry, you're right. There is someone else." She could feel the tension building in his body with her refusal, but the truth was that she didn't know how to be any kinder with it. "Well, that was a bit of a lie, too," she reasoned. Izumo made mention of it like her experience in HOMRA hinged upon it, but the truth was, she didn't yearn to be the centre of Tatara's world. He was the centre of hers, beginning with the smile he kept in her heart. "There's more than one."

She filled with pride as she raised her fingers and began to unbutton her blouse in front of him. After her symbol revealed, she raised one hand to lay against her heart. "Two worlds are merged within me. One is mortal and quite average. This heart beats when I study or go shopping." She switched and covered the mark on her right breast. "And this one beats when I'm where I belong. Two hearts with different beats. That chaotic symphony is my life."

When their eyes met, Gin felt closer to her. It wasn't what he was hoping for, but he felt like it was a step in the right direction. She had never spoken so openly to him about anything before, and the devastating reality of that was that it only made him fall harder for her. "And me? Am I in one of them?"

She nodded softly to reassure him as she returned her fingers to her mortal heart. "Yes. You're here on this side. And maybe now that you understand that, we can do this more often."

His smile was tangled between admiration and disappointment as he forced it on his gentle features. "I-I'd really like that."

"No more lies?"

He itched the back of his head with shame. "Yeah, sorry about that..."

From nearby, Tatara smiled fondly and tried not to linger on the fact that he and their party had stumbled across what appeared to be a date. He felt Anna's hand tighten in his, and that was when he noticed that Mikoto had taken a step towards the pair. In response to Anna's silent plea, Tatara reached out and took Mikoto's hand in his, pulling him away from the unexpected sight. "Easy, King," he chanted spiritedly. "Everything looks fine here. Let's just go home."

When Mikoto turned his vacant stare back towards the two, Anna nodded supportively in agreement, and when Tatara released his hand, she was taking his place. They turned to walk away from their fellow clansmen, Anna, between the men with one hand each in hers to remind them that they were the ones overcomplicating the situation. Neirah had let go of her past and knew how she wanted her future to look. All that was left to do was figure out how to manage day by day in the new world she had created for herself so that someday she would make her dreams a reality. When she needed their support, she would ask from the bottom of her heart like she did the night her spirit was set free.

"Hey, doesn't he kind of remind you of somebody?" Mikoto rumbled dryly.

Anna slowly shook her head to the sound of Tatara's bright laughter. "I think you're seeing things, King."


	5. Knitted

**Knitted**

* * *

Neirah was vaguely aware of the lingering eyes watching her depart the school grounds that afternoon. Since her transfer, she had been just as recluse as ever. Only this time, there were no old friends to offer a kind greeting, but she didn't resent them for it. In that regard, she was a tad grateful for the distance they kept. It saved her from having to put forth the effort of avoiding them like she'd tried to evade Gin. She could feel a faint smile lessen the negative tension on her face to consider that she may have missed having him around, to some extent. He may have pestered her relentlessly, but he was a flicker of warmth in a cold world.

Nearby and deep in observance, a young woman sharing classes with Neirah adjusted her schoolbag strap on her shoulder around a mess of ebony curls. She kept her soft brown eyes locked on the sight of her classmate's exit from beneath a wrinkled brow. "There she goes again," she murmured dismally. "That Tsukiyo is always alone."

Nearby, a timid blonde nodded by her companion's side. "Are you thinking about it again, Ai-chan?" Her gaze remained just as fixed as the two watched Neirah approach the school gate. "Just remember all those stories the boys told us last week. If they're true-"

Diverting her attention to her friend, Ai waved her hand with a crinkled pout. "Rini, don't be so cruel!" she chastised bluntly. "You know how it goes with transfers. Those dumb boys could make up anything, and you'd believe them!"

Rini lurched forward and wrapped her hands up in Ai's light jacket. "But what if they're true, Ai-chan!? Do you really want to get close to someone that scary? Would she even let you?"

Ai turned up her nose and straightened her posture with a confident huff. "Well, I'll never know unless I try now, will I?" Despite Rini's nervous deterrence, she took a step towards the lonesome rumoured threat with every intension on extending her hand for friendship.

After the second step fell, and she focused on her target, she abruptly stopped and examined the gate that Neirah was approaching. "Wait, Rini? Do you know who that is?" Ai took a couple of steps back towards her friend, and her face ignited with the presence of nerves she claimed weren't going to stop her. "I don't think I've ever seen him around here before."

Rini hid behind her friend with a blush equally as rich in colour. "I don't know, but he's kinda dreamy," she purred.

The two women lingered for a moment with their attention drawn more towards the gentleman waiting on the other side of the gate than it ever was to Neirah. "Is he waiting for someone?" Ai whispered hesitantly. "If she's not careful, she's going to walk right into him."

Rini turned her bright green eyes back on her friend and elevated her voice in bemused fascination. "Do you think he's Tsukiyo-san's boyfriend?!"

Ai's brow knotted curiously to her allegations. "But... she hasn't seemed to notice him yet. You would think if that were the case, she would be running to him with open arms." She continued to scrutinize the situation. "That's if Tsukiyo-san is even capable of such things."

"Maybe it's a surprise?" Rini quietly theorized.

The pair turned to observe the quiet woman once more, intently observing as she approached the man by the gate. Their faces burned with envy, and they watched his smile brighten his features with fondness when she grew nearer. They decided that the time wasn't right to introduce themselves to their newest addition. "Whoever he is, he definitely knows her," Ai swooned. "Just look at that smile."

Rini hummed her scornful delight. "Ai-chan is in love~"

Ai whirled to swat at her delighted companion with fond humility. "Rini, don't say those things!"

"Better be careful! If those things they said about Tsukiyo-san are true, you'd better not mess with her boyfriend." Rini turned and started to skip away with an instigating gleam in her eyes. "I knew it! You believe the rumours, too, don't you?"

"Get back here, Rini!" she impatiently scolded. "Cut it out before someone hears!"

"Ai-chan has a cru~ush!"

"Rini!"

Neirah startled to the sound of playful shouting nearby, and when she raised her attention from her thoughts to investigate, her breath was stolen by a familiar sight waiting for her beyond the gates of the school grounds. The view was so befuddling that it stopped her in her tracks, and she blinked a couple of times like she thought he might disappear when she did. After she made an effort and his bright smile remained fixed before her morphing expression, she ran to his side with a delighted smile. "Tat-chan! What on earth are you doing here? You've never met me at school before."

Tatara shrugged with a fond chuckle and politely took her bag for her, slinging it over his shoulder. "I remembered what Bandō and Kamamoto said the last time they tried this, and I thought it was a nice idea. So, here I am."

Neirah's tender expression flushed with warmth. "Don't say that so casually," she playfully reprimanded. "People are going to get the wrong idea."

He made a face like he was confused by her comment, and after peeking the sight of Ai chasing the swooning Rini, he linked arms with HOMRA's hunter as if it were natural. "Well then, I say that's probably a good thing. If people think you have a big scary boyfriend, they won't cause you any trouble at school then, will they?"

Neirah rolled her eyes but didn't shoo him away. "Tat-chan, I hate to break this to you, but the only thing that might fear you around here are the school pests."

He looked at her like he might have been insulted, but it was hard for him to keep a straight face about it. "I can be scary."

She playfully nudged him with her shoulder. "Only when King-sama is standing behind you."

"Which is often."

Bursting into musical laughter, she had to release his arm to clench her sides. "Okay, okay, you win. That would most certainly be terrifying."

Tatara's smile humbled as he adjusted her bag over his shoulder and took in her radiant expression. It had been a while since he'd seen her so happy, and the thought filled him with purpose. "You don't have any other plans tonight, do you? I know you've been pretty busy lately."

Neirah's expression quieted as she turned her gentle smile his way. "Tat-chan, sometimes you say the most ridiculous things," she teased enthusiastically. "I always have time for you."

Tatara peeked out of the corner of his eye, catching the sight of two schoolgirls trailing them. When he did, he stopped and took Neirah's fingers in his hand, giving her a little bow as he continued. "Then, if Nei-chan is free, would she do me the honour of spending the afternoon with me?"

Neirah's voice immediately flattened, and her expression grew vacant over his bowed head. "They're right behind me, aren't they?"

Tatara tilted his head and winked at her playfully. "They seem enchanted by your mystery."

She growled through her gritty smile and batted at his head through her embarrassment. "Stop leading them on," she scolded vigorously. "At the very least, don't call me 'Nei-chan' when you're pretending to be interested in me. People might get the wrong idea." A dull groan rattled in her throat as she turned with an attempt to peek at their company. "It might sound creepy."

"Maybe I'm interested in taking my cute little sister somewhere special," he reasoned. "It could be your birthday for all they know."

"You're such a brat." He laughed as she shoved both flattened palms against him and began to push him away from their nosey audience. "I deal with enough rumours already, thank you very much. Go be someone else's prince charming."

Tatara touched his fingers to his chest and projected his voice theatrically. "But fair valkyrie, how ever shall my heart recover the ache of being from your side?"

"Tat-chan, when was the last time I maimed you?"

His smile brightened as he educated her on an unexpected reality. "A trick question, m' lady. You have actually _never_ maimed me."

"Now seems like as good a time as any to start."

Once they were around the corner out of Ai and Rini's view, Tatara's expression humbled as he reposed his sincerity. "Okay, I'm sorry. I know it must be hard for you."

She looked at him wryly and flashed a devious smirk. "Tatara, this isn't the first time I've changed schools, and my hands have taken lives before. I think I can handle a couple of gossiping schoolgirls."

"Fair enough, Lion-chan," he sassed. "But all rumours aside, my invitation still stands. If you're not busy, I'd like to spend some time with my roommate. I missed this."

For whatever reason, the offer seemed misplaced and made her feel uncomfortable. She diverted her fleeting gaze, observing everything but the absolute certainty in Tatara's eyes. "I don't know, Tat-chan. You know how serious Kusanagi-san is about my homework, and this year has been a struggle already."

He tilted his gaze playfully, his smile broadening to rival the sinister. "Oh? You have homework."

"A little."

Tatara raised his index finger over his shoulder to point at her apprehended schoolbag. "Is it in here?"

Neirah flinched when he gave her shoulder bag a gentle wriggle, and her expression paled. "Tat-chan, don't you dare."

"It's in your bag, isn't it?"

"Don't start! I don't want to have to hurt you."

"So, if I just-" Tatara sidestepped like he thought he was going to try and run, but catching the ferocious predatory glint in her gaze, he staggered back a step instead. "Yata is right. Lion-chan is scary when she makes that face."

Neirah's voice was a low rumble as she groaned her displeasure. "He said what now?"

Tatara clapped his hands together with a meek grin. "Please, Neirah? We haven't spent any time together in forever. And-" He opened his eyes and connected their gazes, letting a little bit of his inner turmoil show through. "I really do miss it."

Her wrath successfully subsided to absorb his sentiment, and Anna's words immediately flooded her thoughts. She thought about it for a moment, but not too long. She knew before he ever asked her what her answer would be. "I miss it too," she added softly. Raising her gaze to meet his, she tipped her sad smile to one side. "I really do."

* * *

The afternoon was beautiful, filled with fond smiles and joyful memories. Like an old friend that moved away years ago had been reunited with the other, it seemed like nothing had changed. And when he offered her his hand on the rocky coastline to help her climb up after him, her heart fluttered like the day she had first taken it.

"Careful," he reminded her gently. "The rocks here are pretty steep, and they get slippery when the tide goes out again. Last time King and I were here, he had to catch me, so I didn't fall right in."

Neirah snickered impishly. "Of course, you were here with King-sama," she teased. "You're _always_ with King-sama, and sometimes I wonder if you don't just do it to make me jealous."

There was no animosity in her voice, and Tatara knew that, but when they made it to the top of the rockface, he still felt like he needed to justify himself. He steadied her by his side so that she could take a seat next to him and watch the golden ombre glow of the setting sun reflect off the jagged peaks below. Once she was safe by his side, he turned to look at the setting red sun, and how it cast a fiery glow over the horizon.

"It's true, I do spend a lot of time with him, don't I?" Tatara turned his sheepish gaze towards her nervously. "Do you hate me for it?"

Her aggravated pout was so tight that he thought for sure she was going to strike him. "Please don't make me answer such ridiculous questions, Tat-chan. I could never hate you for anything."

He laughed half-heartedly and leaned against the mossy stone. "Okay, okay," he chimed softly. "But I promise I have a good reason." Her silence allowed his thoughts to focus a bit on his next words as he planned on doing something that he'd never done with her before. "It's... because King is who he is," he started awkwardly. "A king, I mean."

"Mn, that's very thoughtful of you, yes. I see." She tipped her hands out and waved them through the air in an uplifting arch. "The mysteries of the universe unveiled."

His head dropped instantly with shame. "Nei-chan is so cold."

She turned her radiant smile towards him and beamed her mock innocence. "That's only because Tat-chan is so warm in comparison."

Tatara lifted his head with confidence renewed. Something about talking to her seemed natural, and even if she didn't realize it, she had brought him comfort too. The relationship that she had seen as one-sided never was. He hoped that once they went back home together that night, she would understand that.

"I think it must be hard to be a king," Tatara began softly. "So, I brought him here because, no matter how hard things get, I want him to remember the little things that make life so great." He didn't bother turning to face her when her humbled gaze flashed signs of bemusement in his peripherals. He knew that his heartfelt story was going to take her by surprise. "I think it would be easy to think about the responsibilities negatively because he tries so hard... I'm afraid that King will start to think only about the bad things to come with his powers, so I wanted him to see the sky when it's just like this."

He stared into the radiant glow of the crimson sun and let a deep inhale expand his chest. With the exhale to follow, his smile was growing fainter on his face. "The sea looks like it's burning, but it's so calm. It reminds me of him sometimes. There are times that I watch him, and it looks like he doesn't have a care in the world even though I know he's fighting with his flames the entire time." He diverted his gaze from the sight solemnly. "I just wanted him to realize that there are people out there who take the time to appreciate things like that. And I kind of thought that was a nice comparison."

She hadn't comprehended how choked she'd become until her breathing hitched before her words formed. "That's beautiful."

Tatara blushed nervously to hear her sound so disheartened, but she always did mirror his contagious state of being. It made him appreciate that maybe he was discouraged about it too. "King is hard to understand, but as his vassal, I want to try my very hardest to remind him that the world is so big. He doesn't have to feel trapped by it." With bravery steeling his nerves, he slowly turned his pleasant expression towards his friend. "Kusanagi-san says I'm like a beast-tamer, but I don't want King to feel like an animal. Not when he works so hard to keep his power under control. I just don't think it's fair."

There was a sadness in Tatara's voice that Neirah had never heard before as he spoke about their king. She had teased him many times before about his need to be close to Mikoto, but she never thought to consider why. As he explained his heart's motive, she sickened, and a twisting knot began to bind her insides. She couldn't believe how selfish she'd been.

"I'm sorry, Nei-chan." His gentle apology made Neirah want to heave, but she couldn't do any more than gawp at his sincerity. "I know I'm not that strong, so I try to be as much assistance to King as I can. That's why I help our new members when they arrive. I know something like that would annoy him. And because of that, we can't always spend as much time together as we used to, but I wanted you to know that it hurts me too."

Neirah shook her head, but she still couldn't get herself to speak, and she started to grow alarmed without the understanding of what happened to her voice. She wanted to be furious with him that he thought solidarity would comfort her. She couldn't appreciate anything that brought him pain.

"He was pretty nervous about you when he first made you his clansman," Tatara diverted nervously. "I don't know if you noticed."

She had. The day Neirah took Mikoto's hand, she could feel it in the strength of his grip, like if he let go, she would fade away. Finally, her lips wagged, and she managed to get some sound to emit. "Tat-chan..."

"When I saw how proud he was of you that day when we rescued those girls from the Raikōjū Ka, I felt like we accomplished something great. And for once, I felt like I was really helpful to him." He turned his weakening gaze out over the body of water before them, and Neirah stiffened to the thought that tears might be threatening her friend's sights. It was something she never dreamed would be a risk to his delicate features, and the idea of actually seeing him cry devastated her. Luckily, the symptoms didn't press, and sad eyes remained dry. "For the last little while, you've been on your own," he murmured sadly. "You've become... so brave. And now I feel like I'm just back to being a little useless again."

He turned his meek smile towards her, and the tension the effort knotted into his face made her want to bawl. "I know how silly it must sound, but I was so happy when you showed me your powers that night that we fixed your chain up. I was happy because... I knew how badly you wanted to help King, and with your power, I knew you'd be able to. Can you believe I was... a little jealous?"

It was the strangest thing Neirah had ever felt. Tatara's eyes remained dry despite the sorrow in his voice, but hers drowned in tears like she was crying them for her friend. She didn't whimper, but wide eyes watched the world blur, and her heart ached to say something to comfort someone who had spent a year comforting her. She had never been so strapped for words.

Noticing how weak his comrade had become, Tatara turned away, so he didn't provoke her sadness any further. "Anna made me see it clearly the other day. Well, Anna and King." He laughed to try and lighten the conversation, but it only came out sounding pathetic enough to pity. "King told me that the problem was with me, then Anna told me that I couldn't worry about you forever. But I guess... what scared me about that was that if you don't need me anymore, who will?"

Tatara didn't seem surprised when Neirah whimpered out a desperate cry and leapt towards him with her arms wide open. As soon as she crashed into his shoulder, his smile faded entirely, and his thinning gaze watched the golden ripples break off the rocks. He could sympathize with them. In the vast sea of supernatural phenomena littering Japan, he felt like an insignificant drop in the pond while his king's wave swallowed entire lands with his magnificence. Even if that thought was despairing, the hot tears dampening his shirt were not. They rekindled his hope that one day, he would feel useful to somebody.

She felt disgusted with herself for crying over someone else's suffering, but the truth was that she had truly believed their spirits were one. The heart that beat from her right breast was the same as his. It was HOMRA, their home. And it was aching. Through that mysterious connection, they were stitched together with the brightest red thread. She felt like that was why she could feel his pain and cry his tears. Whereas he tried to hide them behind a radiant smile, she didn't dare. She let them flood her face without rest, so he didn't have to dampen his glow.

"I do." Her voice had grown so weak that he had barely comprehended her words despite her speaking them right next to his ear. "Tat-chan is my whole world."

He shivered beneath her like hearing someone say it had filled him with unbearable relief. "Really? Even though you've been spending so much time with everyone else lately?"

Neirah nodded with a hard swallow, trying desperately to choke down her overflowing emotion. "I didn't want to be a burden, so I thought that maybe if I spent time on my own, I wouldn't be so much trouble for you." She sealed her eyes tight and clutched him without consideration of his pain tolerance. "But I just made things worse."

With a faint trace of a smile, he raised his hand to her arm across his collar and held it tightly for comfort. "Don't say those things," he tenderly reproached. "This isn't your fault."

She shook her head against his shoulder harshly and raised her voice, filling it with defiance. "No! It is! I'm too selfish!"

"Nei-chan..."

"You're everything to me, and I never want to be anywhere else." He truly was her entire world. She felt his breathing hitch beneath the forearm she'd wrapped around his chest, that was how tightly she clutched him. When she felt his hand begin to tremble, she hid her bashful face against his shoulder to avoid meeting his gaze. She was afraid that her devastation might finally make his joyful demeanour crack, and she didn't know if she could bear being the reason. "You're my very best friend... in the entire world. I'll always need you..."

She had become brave, and confident in her ability to stifle her emotion, so she slowly reconnected their gazes, grateful that he had remained as optimistic as he'd ever been. "And I know that King-sama needs you too. We all do. Because you remind us how to smile." She reached out her hands and slipped them to either side of his face, smiling at him tenderly while noticing that he hadn't stopped. Everyone was a little broken, and everyone had a story. After a year of living with her best friend, she finally knew his. "Tat-chan has the very best smiles."

As he watched her eyes flood with more tears, he reciprocated her hug when she dropped her arms around his neck. He had always been rather humble, but even he could admit that the reminder that somebody needed him in their life felt nice. He nearly chuckled to consider that he was planning on telling her something similar a couple of weeks prior.

Despite that he had almost laughed, he startled to the sound of her bursting into hysterics against his shoulder, and he couldn't help but pull away from the embrace to gauge her sanity. It seemed like a misplaced time for laughter, but the passion behind her giggles was too much for him to resist joining in. "Wait, did I miss something?" he beamed innocently.

Neirah shook her head frantically and rubbed the back of her wrists against her eyes to dry them. "No, it's just- the rumours going around my new school. They all think I'm some kind of murderous beast."

Tatara shifted his gaze to one side while his smile remained broad, and then he reconnected their eyes expectantly. "Can you really call it a rumour then?"

She swatted him playfully for his jab and started to laugh again. "Can you imagine if they saw me now? I must look so silly."

Tatara's laughter subsided as he reached out and captured her chin, wiping her tears away with his free thumb. "No, not silly," he reassured her kindly. "Nei-chan has a big heart, and I'm glad she decided to share it with us." Even after her tears were dried, he brushed his thumb back over the dark lines framing them. "These little lines; they're in the perfect place to catch your tears."

Neirah closed her eyes to force the remainder to fall, and she caught his hand in hers to hold its warmth against her cheek. "It's why I'm not afraid to cry," she murmured tenderly. "Because I know that with every tear that passes them, I'll get stronger."

Tatara tipped his brow to hers, and their fond laughter joined in a gentle choir as her right heart began to beat, the spirit that spoke when she was where she belonged. "Lion-chan," he teased kindly. The blazing sun was taking refuge beyond the horizon, and its last fading breath kissed her cheeks to make her tears glow like embers as they fell to the rocks on the shore. Her tears were his tears, his smile was her smile, and their hearts beat as one.

After she had settled, Neirah slipped from their lingering embrace to turn toward the fading flicker of sunrays saluting the day. "Tat-chan?"

"Hm? What is it?"

She bowed her head with a sheepish smile. "What... what did he say? King-sama, that is?" She laid her hands in her lap and fisted them in her school uniform skirt. "About the view?"

Tatara stilled with a look of consideration before finally reaching behind his head and laughing at her inquiry. "Ah, not much, really," he proclaimed cheerily. "You know how he is."

Neirah's smile relaxed but didn't entirely fade as she considered her thoughts and how they'd been sharing things that had weighed heavily on their shoulders. "Sometimes, I wonder if he's afraid to appreciate beautiful things... because he's worried that they'll fade away."

_Oh?_ Tatara seemed enlightened by reflection. "You think so?"

She nodded docilely. "I know... I feel that way sometimes. It's only natural for someone who has brought misfortune everywhere they go." She tipped her head back and looked up into twilight's sky, dotting with starlight. "That's why... the night I met him, I felt hope. We had a lot in common, but he was so much stronger than I was. It inspired me."

She diverted her gaze to the depressing sight of red fading, and her heart began to ache for the denial that it ever could. Not their red. Their red was eternal and would continue to burn through time and fate. "When Okazaki-san called King-sama the Red Monster, it made me angry because I know what it's like to feel like you're only good for destroying everything you touch." Her grip in her skirt relaxed as she smiled up at the sky. "But I don't think anyone really wants that."

_Hope that one day, the power to do what you think is right won't come with chains._

"I guess we all hope... for something better." She turned her loving smile back to her friend with a reassuring laugh. "How about we teach him together?" Holding both of her arms wide above her head, she tilted her bright expression towards the sky. "But, to do that, we'll need something even bigger than a red sky."

Tatara recoiled in disbelief. "E-eh? Even bigger than the sky? Nei-chan is delirious!"

"Am not," she pouted. "Tat-chan is just small-minded." She patted him on the shoulder positively. "I have great faith in you."

"I thought you said we'd do it together?!"

"Well, but I do still have homework."

"Nei-chan is also the worst..."

* * *

Their home had never felt warmer as Neirah walked through her kitchen, bare-foot with a cup of tea in either hand. Since she'd cleared the air with her roommate, things were able to return to the comfortable way they had been before. She rocked her head from side to side with the sound of him plucking away at the strings of the instrument he picked up to pass the time while she was out and about without him. She hummed along with him for a moment before her head stopped rocking, and she considered his sour notes. She immediately shook her head to deny his chords. "No-no. That's not quite right. That sounds a little _too_ sad."

Tatara laughed and gratefully received the tea she offered him. "Give me a break," he begged docilely. "It's hard to figure out when all I have to go off of is _it sounds like happy raindrops_."

Neirah twisted her face up and wrapped her free hand around her teacup too. "Well, it did! You weren't there, so you wouldn't understand."

"That much I understand," he teased. "But just remember, I'm teaching myself how to use this thing, so I would really appreciate a little help deciphering your memories."

Neirah huffed her exasperation and set her tea down before rising on her toes and closing her eyes. Then, without speaking, she started to hum the tune she'd heard in the street, allowing it to move her feet. As she stepped, she remembered. She smiled, and that smile broadened as she continued to hum the chords. "It was bouncier. Hopeful. Happy raindrops."

Tatara's brow knotted as he tipped his ear to his shoulder and watched her with a slightly puzzled expression. "Maybe I should ask Anna instead."

Neirah flapped her fingers at him impatiently. "No, you should pay closer attention! Watch my feet. Look at how happy they are splashing in the puddles!"

Tatara leaned forward over his guitar and started to laugh.

"Look! Look!" she encouraged certainly. She spread her arms out in front of her as she spun in circles on their living room floor. "I can see them, their smiles. Anna said it looked like they were a circle of friends, but they were complete strangers." She stopped spinning for a moment and turned to face him eagerly. "It reminded me of our friends at HOMRA."

Tatara stopped laughing, but his expression remained entertained. "See? Now _that_ makes a lot of sense. It's like when you bumped into Bandō-kun that night at the harbour. You were strangers at first, but now you're really good friends because of HOMRA."

Neirah snapped her fingers zealously as she approached the couch and dropped down next to him. "That's what it sounded like! Except Wolf-kun hit the pavement a little harder than raindrops do." She slapped her flattened hands together in front of her nose. "It was more like a dull thud then a gentle patter."

He diverted his gaze wryly. "So, how did we go from happy rain to Bandō?"

"He's not the rain. He's the circle." Neirah scolded her roommate as she reached out and traced a sphere with her index fingers.

"I somehow don't think that's the right shape to describe him."

"Stay focused, Tat-chan!"

Tatara paused and thought about it for a moment. "Happy rain."

"An optimistic sadness," she encouraged. "It sounded like hope."

"Hope that one day we can see King smile."

She giggled and leaned over his shoulder as he started to pluck the strings on his guitar again. "And not a cheating smile either," she teased. "One from the heart."

"You're ambitious," he encouraged. "Okay, let's try it again."

"Happier this time," she urged. "Like my feet."

Tatara looked down into his teacup and then back at her. "What exactly did you put in our tea?"

She anxiously slapped her hand against the side of his guitar. "No time for teasing! We're making music here!"

"Please don't say that when we tell Kusanagi-san."

"No!" Neirah leapt to her feet and crossed her arms in front of her chest to mark her denial. "We're not going to tell anybody, except Anna. She'll have to help us figure out the chords."

"And we should put words to the music," he suggested fondly.

Neirah clammed up and immediately shied away from the thought. "H-hold on now, that doesn't seem-"

Tatara was staggered by her sudden adjustment. "Nei-chan has stage fright."

"No, she's just not good with words."

"Liar," he teased mischievously. "You're great with words but terrible at expressing your feelings."

Neirah dropped her head with shame. "I will leave the words to Tat-chan and Anna."

"Okay. It's fine," Tatara murmured tenderly. "I'll come up with something." He started to play again and when he did, Neirah's feet began to move. Using the song that she and Anna had learned from the street performer as inspiration, they began to craft themselves a melody to honour the beautiful moments they shared with the family they called HOMRA. They filled it with all their hopes and all their love, laughing the entire time. Those were the moments, the beautiful memories that, like their red, would never fade. It would be a song in their hearts, and as long as they were still beating, they would protect that smile from any looming shadow.


	6. Kidnapped

**Kidnapped**

* * *

**_July 10th, 2009 10:18 pm_**

Through a throaty groan laced with impatience, Neirah dropped her head back and gazed up at the stars looming over the quiet streets they ambled. Despite the agitation that she focused so intently on conveying, she still drawled her words through a toothy grin. "I don't know _why_ it irritates me so much. It just does." With her head remaining tipped, she rolled her neck to the side and assumed that she connected gazes with her walking companion. It was always hard to tell with him, though. She understood that his concealed observance watched her somewhat directly because the large black discs of his sunglasses remained fixed on her as she continued to criticize him. "It's heartbreaking, really. I thought we knew each other better than this."

Beneath tinted lenses that were undoubtedly overkill for the hour that they trudged through town, Saburōta's brow knotted with bemused ire. "Wait, how am I supposed to know these things if you don't even know yourself?" he defended briskly. "Everyone else does it, and you're okay with it."

Neirah's posture snapped straight as she raised her palms parallel to each other and focused on the emptiness between them. "It's not _what_ you're saying so much as it's _how_ you're saying it."

He snorted curtly and stuffed his hands in his pockets while diverting his bitter pout. "Anna does it the same as me, and I never hear you complain."

"Anna is cuter than you are."

Saburōta turned his kindled expression to face his wily companion with an animated display of frustration. "That was ice-cold!"

Neirah didn't back down in their heated spat as she dusted one set of knuckles on her hip and turned to face him squarely. She reached out to snap his sunglasses from his face so that their eyes could meet. When she tucked the frames and her second hand along with her first against her pant line, she managed to prevent him from snatching them back. "Don't say it like that," she admonished. She sized him up, using his apprehended frames as a pointer in her examination. "How am I supposed to know if you're cute or not beneath all this nonsense?"

Tapering his gaze, he glowered at her and tried to pretend it was anger flushing his face. "S' not nonsense. It's my identity." When he went for the sunglasses that returned to her hip, she swished crosswise to sidestep his advance, leaving him to stumble forward without her resistance to stop his blunder. "Oh, come on, Onē-san! Everyone's got their thing. This is mine!"

She hummed her detachment with a wry smile on her face and touched the frames to her lips thoughtfully. "Bandō, baby, if you want me to do something for you, you could consider doing something in return." She dangled his shades and gave them a wiggle to bait his cooperation. "Call me Nē-chan like everyone else. That should fix our little conundrum."

A whine of desperation made his meek tone crack as he struggled for his shades a second time. "Maybe I'll stop calling you _Onē-san_ if you stop calling me _baby_!"

Neirah raised her hand to her disappointed pout in recoil, his glasses dangling just beneath her chin. "You really don't like it when I call you that?"

Saburōta shifted in a bashful fluster. "Hell no! I'm not a damn kid!"

As she bent at her hips, she snickered deviously and waggled his missing article in front of his face. "Is that so? Are you suggesting that a grown man would chase around a pair of sunglasses like a dog begging for their ball back?"

He snapped his teeth together and bared them offensively. "Yata's right. You are savage."

Her chuckles were musical as she danced around the quiet street with Saburōta on her heels and trying to reclaim his glasses. "Well, Yata _is_ a child." Her smirk grew wicked with intent. "Maybe I should call him 'baby' instead."

Suddenly, Saburōta seemed to switch up his opinion on the topic like he was defending the name he once tried to reject. "No way! That's our thing!" He groaned with impatience when she palmed the beak of his cap and shoved it down over his eyes to keep him from reclaiming his stolen article. Letting her escape, he straightened his hat on his brow and glared at her dimly. "Besides, he's only like a year younger than we are. Isn't it kinda unfair to call him a kid?"

Neirah hummed playfully to herself as she closed her eyes and started walking away, her hips rocking dramatically with every step to taunt him. In her raised hand, she held one arm of his frames and twirled them in her grip. "Minutiae, Bandō, baby. You're always getting tangled in the little things. And while he is little, his attitude is far too big."

Saburōta cocked his head to one side incredulously. "Wait- _His_ attitude?"

Upon her departure, she rolled her eyes and reclaimed his frames to unfold them. "You heard me," she instigated. "There's only room for one attitude that big within our little band of misfits, and I was here first." As he fell behind, she adorned her spoils, slipping the dark lenses over her face with a delighted squeal. "Oh my! How is it you can see anything through these?!" She turned to face him with her gaze hidden, and her smile broad beneath. "They're filthy-"

She yelped with glee as Saburōta attacked, tackling her and locking his arm around her neck to keep her still. His defiant growl was less in response to her resisting struggle and more for the thought that she looked like an adorable little bumblebee. He couldn't let her charm soften him in their battle. "Give 'em back, would ya? I don't wanna have to get rough with a girl!"

Her taunting cackle had grown sinister as she took the challenge from his warning. Sinking her heel into his toe, she slipped out from under him and grabbed his offending arm. After wrapping it behind his back, she jerked on the warped appendage until he was yipping his surrender.

"Okay! Okayokayalright! Keep 'em, you freaking psychopath."

She released him so that he could untangle himself and roll the shoulder she'd threatened to dislocate. Turning her charm back on, she pranced through the empty street, humming her delight. After a moment of rejoicing in her victory, she turned to face where his irked expression scowled at the road, his shoulder's slack and hands buried in the pockets of his leather just like a pouting child. Noticing his unease, she sighed her surrender and slipped her prize from her face. "Come now, don't make that face. You know I'm not going to give them up out of pity."

Tapering his gaze didn't help, so he raised his hand over his brow to keep the bright city lights from blinding him as he took their glow into account. "That's fine, but if I go blind out here, just remember it's on you."

She snorted at his dramatics. "You did this to yourself, you know. It probably wouldn't kill you to see the world at face-value every now and then." Her expression hardened as she approached the side of a building, her eyes locked with his as she pointed at it like a school teacher in lecture. "Do you see this? This is what we call _white_. It's the absence of all colour."

Saburōta kicked up his heels agitatedly. "I know what _white_ is!"

Upon stepping away from her lesson, she tucked one arm of his frames into her cleavage to hang the glasses from her snug collar. "Consider this rehabilitation. Things might not look so bright if you weren't always observing them from behind these silly things."

Saburōta narrowed his sights on her and huffed his displeasure for her games. "I already told you; they're my identity!"

"An obscured identity, at best."

Unrelated to his angry barking, she jolted alertly to the sound of her phone chiming, and before she could notice it drawing his attention, she was digging for her rumbling PDA. "Mn, it's Tat-chan," she serenaded lightly. After uncovering her phone, she tossed his sunglasses nonchalantly over her head, leaving him to dive for them so he could protect them from striking the pavement in pieces. "Fine, take them. It's no fun if you aren't fighting back."

From where he landed on the ground just behind her, he growled his bitter tension. "Onē-san really has a sadistic side."

She waved her fingers casually and answered the call. "We'll continue this later, Wolf-kun."

On the other side of Neirah's connection, Tatara lit up with delighted laughter. "Nei-chan, are you teasing Bandō-kun again?"

She sighed blissfully, holding one hand to her cheek as she closed her eyes and tipped her ear to her shoulder. "So very few things in life bring me this much pleasure."

"Don't let Kusanagi-san hear you say that."

Her tone hardened with impatience. "It's none of Kusanagi-san's business."

Tatara smiled warmly and met Izumo's narrow leer from across the bar. "Well, you and Bandō fighting like cats and dogs isn't what I was calling for, but it's not surprising," he teased. "I just thought I'd let you know that Okazaki was here looking for you again tonight."

Neirah's expression instantly dropped. "I just messaged him this afternoon and warned him that I was busy."

"He said that when he was here too," Tatara crooned nervously. "Yata-chan didn't believe him. I just didn't want you to be surprised if you noticed he had a couple of bumps and bruises tomorrow. Yata managed to get in a couple of good whacks before King separated them."

_E-eh?!_ She squealed lividly. "Okazaki-san isn't the fighting type! Why would he-!?"

"After what happened this afternoon, that's probably something Yata-chan _would_ agree with."

Neirah slammed her free fist down by her side with a muffled hiss. "It's none of _Yata's _business! If he's looking to pick fights, Kusanagi-san can send _him_ on these silly little escapades and leave me at least one weekend this summer to myself!"

"Easy, Lion-chan. I didn't call to get you all riled up," he defended nervously. "I just thought I'd warn you, is all."

Neirah sighed and folded her free arm into the other as she listened to Saburōta rise behind her to dust himself off. "That's fair, I suppose," she admitted calmly. "Either way, we'll be there soon. And tell Kusanagi-san that I expect the remainder of my Friday night to be somewhat enjoyable. That means no homework, no blackmail, no-"

Neirah stiffened when her roommate's melodious voice replaced with the smooth drawl of her black-ops manager. "I hear you're complainin' about your workload. Got somethin' you wanna say?"

Her groan was hard to stifle. "It's like you knew that I was just telling Tat-chan I was excited to spend the rest of my Friday night in peace."

Izumo's snigger was low and mischievous as he noted the ruckus of a still raving Misaki. "Okazaki was here again lookin' for you. He and Yata don't get along."

Neirah growled lowly into the speaker of her phone. "I know already, in case you didn't realize you rudely interrupted another, far sweeter, conversation."

Izumo leaned over his shoulder, where he watched Misaki rage about how angry he was that Gin had the nerve to come around looking for their huntress. "Good, maybe if you hear it enough times, you'll start to realize that havin' him snoop around here for you is probably a bad idea."

"You could have at least tried to help him," she reasoned. "You know he's not aggressive in any way, so sicking Yata-san on him was a little unnecessary. It's not like it would take much to scare someone like him off."

He sighed bleakly and closed his eyes to deny the sight of Misaki's theatrics. "He's diggin' in spots he doesn't belong, Neirah. I think you and him need to have a long heart-to-heart about what makes you two different. Instead, he's comin' around tryin' to be buddy-buddy with a bunch of brothers, for all intents-and-purposes."

Neirah sighed and diverted her gaze like he could see her exhaustion through their digital connection. "Did you ever think maybe we could all get along?"

"Neirah, if Chitose had of been here, Okazaki wouldn't've walked away from this."

"I feel like Chitose-kun would treat anybody I brought around like that, though," she announced thoughtfully. "But, I think that's more out of jealousy than _brotherly love_."

"What part of _no dating until your thirty_ didn't you understand?"

Neirah raised her voice and held her phone in front of her face, removing any connection it had with her ear. "Okazaki-san and I don't have that kind of relationship!"

Saburōta snorted impatiently and looked through his glasses. Observing that they were quite dirty, as Neirah had suggested, he tipped the lenses to the front of his shirt and polished the front side. "Sounds like Okazaki showed up again. Man, I wish I had've been there to see Yata wipe the floor with him."

When he reapplied the accessory, the world seemed right again for a split second. It might have been why he felt comfortable immediately knotting his brow before thoughtfully scanning the area. He wasn't quite sure why, but there seemed to be a local disturbance, and the presence was somewhat ominous. He felt the pressure tighten his chest, and his observance grew swift as he turned over his shoulder, scouring the rooftops skeptically. His nerves got the better of him as urgency flooded his voice. "Hey... Tsukiyo-san?"

Not taking notice of his sombre change of address, Neirah growled lowly and waved her arm back towards her fretful companion. "Not now," she scolded impatiently. "Kusanagi-san and I are having words."

With her challenge, Izumo's expression darkened as he leaned forward to brace one hand on his bar. "Now listen here, young lady-"

"Give the phone back to Tat-chan," she ordered. "I'm done talking about this." She flinched, feeling the impact of Saburōta's body striking the pavement behind her, and after blinking a couple of times, she burst out laughing. "Onii-san, look at what you've started! Chitose has taught Wolf-kun how to play dead when he knows you're calling.

Why?

Well, it's a long story. It has to do with that tent thing last year.

Because he's wolf-like.

No? You don't think so?" She poked at Saburōta's sunglasses with the toe of her boot, smiling quietly to herself that they'd rattled so far away from him in his overly theatrical display. "Sure, alright, I'll talk to Okazaki-san. I'd hate for him to pick up Chitose _and_ Bandō's strange habits.

Okay.

We'll see you in a bit."

Hanging up her phone, she giggled to herself and bent over to pick up the sunglasses that had been lying at her feet. "Alright." She straightened and rotated the shades by their unfolded arm once more. "Where were-" She stilled, half-turned as she felt a painful pinching in the side of her neck. She was moments from expressing to her friend that the nip was unnecessary in such a sensitive area, but for some strange reason, the words wouldn't come.

The numbness spread, starting where she thought she'd been nicked and moving through her shoulder into her arm. Not only had she been too breathless to speak, but the shades she captured had fallen back out of her hand onto the ground between them. Her mobile clattered behind her shortly after. With her fading sense of gravity, she let her head fall back until her blurring vision had come to rest on Saburōta's motionless mass lying against the pavement like the day she'd first met him. Something about that terrified her because she knew when they first met, he'd been unconscious.

Suddenly, the city around her seemed to distort like she was watching the scene on an old television with a weak cable signal, and flashbacks of the desecrated boatyard they met in replaced the quiet street. The only thing that didn't change was him. She closed her eyes, which may have been the worst thing she could do when she was feeling so dizzy, and her face tightened with her struggle to shake the memories free. They weren't like the panic-induced episodes that she'd been free of since their battle with the Yakuza. What was happening to her that night was very different and somehow more terrifying.

Although her left hand began to tingle with numbness, she still had enough control to reach to her neck and feel the swelling lump beneath what she was hoping was a wasp. When she peeled the surgical dart away from her nape, her tan skin was already paling with dread, and before she could call to her friend, her cold body was collapsing alongside him.

Her breathing started to tremble like she was experiencing hypothermia on a dry July evening, and panic gathered in her hazing mind. Her tapering gaze carefully watched Saburōta even though she couldn't call out to him. She couldn't see any blood, and she hadn't heard the shot, so she assumed that the same poison she had taken was what disabled him. While she observed and inevitably waited for her lashes to stop fluttering, she noticed that his brow was faltering between tension and relaxation like he might have been dreaming, meaning he may have still been conscious in some part. The way he landed looked like he may have been trying to warn her of impending danger, and she immediately felt the burn of guilt deep in the pit of her churning stomach for turning him away.

With her weak set of mobile fingers, she dragged her arm in front of her, whimpering docilely with the effort it took her fingers to crawl forward. It hadn't been much, but she managed to pinch his coat sleeve between her thumb and forefinger, tugging on it lightly. Moments later, she felt the smile she couldn't make warm her heart as she caught the sight of moonlight reflecting off of weak charcoal eyes beneath his dark lashes.

She barely noticed his fingers move to clench into a fist on the arm she touched because she had been too distracted by the silent apology in his eyes. As sleep started to take her, all she could remember was thinking vaguely about how expressive they were. It made her wonder why he always hid them behind sunglasses.

Back at bar HOMRA, Tatara whimpered and caught his phone when Izumo lobbed it back into his hands. "Ah, Kusanagi-san, why did you hang up? I wanted to ask Nei-chan and Bandō to pick some things up from the store before they got back."

Izumo shrugged indifferently and returned to his duties, weighted by the aggravation of Neirah's bold resistance. "Call her back then, or better yet, message her," he added dryly. "It's not the end of the world."

"You know her phone is silent unless my number _calls_ it," he grumbled. Tatara knew for a fact that Izumo was aware of that because half of the time when Izumo was trying to get a hold of her, he had to use Tatara's phone to do so. "If I messaged her, she probably wouldn't check it until tonight when she decides to charge it." Regardless, Tatara groaned and did just as was suggested of him, redialing her contact. He waited for a moment before drawing a deep breath at the end of her phone ringing, and just as he was about to speak, her voice unexpectedly interrupted his thoughts.

"You've reached Tsukiyo Neirah. Please leave a message."

Tatara's smile seemed misplaced as his heart started to race. His breathing caught as he listened to the beep sound, and the vacancy in his expression found Mikoto's peaceful leer. Tatara parted his lips to speak, but then reconsidered and hung up the phone instead. Neirah had never missed one of his calls since they had met over a year prior. When he disconnected the line, his tone flooded with hesitancy even as he tried to remain calm. He'd just spoken to her, so he didn't understand why the missed call haunted him so dauntingly. She was probably ignoring it in fear Izumo was going to reprimand her for hanging up him. Still, his words were uncertain as his subconscious thoughts theorized behind his calm expression. "Well... I guess King and I could step out for a bit."

"What's wrong?" Mikoto muttered evenly. "You look worried."

Izumo chuckled from where he lingered casually nearby. "Here we go again," he teased menacingly. "Neirah's spendin' time with the others and Totsuka's-"

Like nothing had happened, Tatara raised his bright expression towards the feisty barkeep. "Not quite," he interrupted playfully. "I'm just wondering if I finally figured out Nei-chan's secret crush."

"Are you still on about that?" Mikoto rumbled bleakly. "Give it up already."

"First it's Kamamoto, then it's Chitose, now it's _Bandō_?" Izumo theorized. "You do realize how ridiculous you sound."

Tatara slammed the butt of his balled fist into the flat of his opposing palm. "But, I'm certain this time!"

"You were certain the other six times, too," Mikoto grumbled vaguely.

"She's never missed one of my calls before, though! They must be having a really good time!"

"Not too good, I hope," Izumo protested.

"But what if-"

Izumo growled impatiently and threw his drying rag into the man's bright expression to hide it. "Give it a rest, Totsuka."

* * *

Shortly after muffled footsteps had struck the pavement, a form of gruff maniacal laughter sounded in an eager rumble nearby. "I feel like a poacher on a safari," announced the zealous man tucking his silenced pistol into his pants. He adjusted his leather jacket over the concealed weapon and gave his stubbled jaw an eager itch. "Did you see how fast they dropped, Kuriko?"

Another man, tall and lean with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, had hooked the toe of his boot beneath Saburōta's shoulder. He flopped over the slumbering mass and cocked his head to one side curiously with a ghoulish snigger. "The hell did you expect, Yasuda? They're just kids." He growled lowly and tapped the boy a couple more times with his shoe. It started gently at first, but by the end, he heaved against his side hard enough to overturn him. Kneeling next to the body, he reached to pick the dart out of Saburōta's collar, shoving it into his pocket. "How in the hell did the monster get so famous with a buncha brats scamperin' around doing his will?"

"Ah, don't get pissy about it," Yasuda cautioned. "Y' know, Suoh ain't that old either. I'd bet he's mid-twenties tops. You don't gotta be ancient to be fucking terrifying these days."

After shifting his gaze, Kuriko growled again like he thought the predatory snarl could frighten their incapacitated targets, and he set his sights on Neirah. "This little brat's sure proof of that, huh?" He knelt next to her and removed one hand from his pocket to wrap his fingers in her hair. He raised her by the auburn tuft and smiled at the sight of her inked breast. "This's the one, for sure. She does the snoopin' for the monster."

"And the other one? S' he one of them too?"

Kuriko snarled a third time. "I don't give two shits about that one. She's got the mark so she should do, right? She's gotta be the one we're lookin' for. We're not tryin' to step on anyone's toes here. We know these guys've got eyes all over the place, so let's just find out who they are and put 'em out."

The shooter seemed to humble thoughtfully, a deep crease forming in his broad brow. "Maybe she does it on her own. You ever think of that?"

Turning to face the gunman wryly, Kuriko withdrew his second hand to grasp Neirah's soft jawline with a coy, pouty expression. "Does this look like it's capable of all that on its own?" He scoffed bitterly and shoved her aside until she dropped like a lifeless doll next to her friend. "I don't think so. She probably just runs between eyes and brings it all back home to HOMRA safe n' sound. S' how she masks the scent." He straightened with a disgusted rumble. "Get the guys over here, and let's get her gone before the other one wakes up."

"You're not worried about him fucking off somewhere and bringin' the Red Monster down on our asses? Earlier this year, they wiped an entire operation off the map in just one day."

Kuriko's expression twisted wickedly with delight. "That's why we're not knockin' 'em off. We just get our answers, let 'em back into the wild, and no one's gotta get mad." He shrugged his arms out to either side of him. "We just go back to makin' an honest livin' without the boss complainin' that the Red Monster's itsy-bitsy hunter's gone and mucked it all up."

"And what if she _is_ runnin' the intel back to that informant of theirs all on her own?" Yasuda's expression darkened nervously. "We knock her then?"

The leaner villain became nervous as he turned away from the sight of Yasuda slinging the woman's dainty figure over his shoulder. "Let's just get the answers we need and deal with that if the boss says she's gotta go. I doubt it, though… He's pretty interested in this one." He started to disappear down a backstreet to where the sight of a vehicle pulling up on the other side had signalled them to join. For a moment, Kuriko stopped to let Yasuda pass with a sharp glare fixed on the figure they'd left behind. "Remember, we're tryin' _not_ to piss 'em off here. We just need 'em out of our way."

"Right," Yasuda agreed. "Let's go before they notice she's missin' then."

In the middle of the quiet street, Neirah's phone continued to sing not far from where Saburōta had his shoulders turned away from it. The light of the screen flashing Tatara's name reflected off the leather of his jacket as it continued to rumble outside of his comprehension. After another silent moment, the light dimmed and left the pair of them lying quietly in the middle of the road between closed shops. The last thing shared that night was the sound of squealing tires burning against the asphalt paving the next street over, and with it, Neirah was gone.

* * *

From where he'd been sitting across from Masaomi, Yō chewed the end of his cigarette thoughtfully before laying a card down between them. "Those two sure are takin' their sweet-ass time," he nearly sneered. "Have Yata go a couple of rounds with him too when she finally drags him back here."

Masaomi considered the card out on the playing field before returning to his hand in consideration. "Chill out," he commanded petulantly. "He's probably chasing her all over town trying to get his hat back. She's been stealing mine all week." With a crooked grin, he laid his response to Yō's play on top of the pile between them, causing Yō to toss his remaining cards onto the table with a bitter hiss.

"Shit..."

From the bar where he sat slowly typing his shopping list to Neirah, Tatara chuckled without raising his gaze. "I've noticed that she's gotten into that habit recently," he agreed distantly. "I found a pile of my things stashed in her room the other day while I was cleaning."

Mikoto lowered his fingers from where they'd been clutching his cigarette, and his brow knotted skeptically. "You clean her room, too?"

Tatara finally raised his bemused gaze to face his king. "Yeah, why? Is something wrong with that?"

"Isn't that kinda dangerous territory?"

Tatara laughed as he sent off his message to his roommate. "I don't think so. Nei-chan and I don't keep secrets, so it doesn't seem weird at all." He closed his eyes, his sunny smile broadening playfully. "I mean until I find a pile of my things in the corner of her room that I don't remember putting there."

Izumo thoughtfully hummed as he polished up a crystal flute between his hands. "She goes through phases," he instructed them calmly. "She's a bit like Totsuka that way." He smiled and tipped the glass in front of his face to observe his diligent work. "The fact that they share the same quirky habits is probably how they've managed to live together all this time. It must make for a better understanding."

While he received a lighter from Yō, Masaomi tipped his thoughtful furrow towards Izumo's casual proclamation. "That doesn't explain her sudden interest in my hat." He tucked the lighter in his jacket pocket and glanced at them over the burning end of his cigarette. "I don't think I've ever seen her wear a hat before now."

Yō shrugged and diverted his gaze bitterly away from the victor of their game. "Who cares? It looks cuter on her anyways."

Masaomi narrowed his impatient leer on the sore loser across from him. "Bando's right. You really shouldn't be allowed to call her Nē-chan."

"Me?!" Yō raged. "He's been following her around like a lost puppy since the day he got here."

"Puppies are innocent," Izumo announced coldly from across the room. "So long as he doesn't turn into a hound like you, we'll be movin' a step in the right direction."

Yō turned his bitter scowl on Mikoto's second and forced his agitated rebuttal through clenched teeth. "What? I can't give her an honest compliment now without the rest of you raggin' on me?"

Masaomi snorted from behind a cloud of smoke as he withdrew his butt and tapped the ashes into the tray between them. "If you were doing that, there wouldn't be a problem."

Yō growled and slammed his forearm down onto their shared table, the side of his knotted fist causing the tableware to clatter under the pressure of his strike. "You're just pissed off that Fushimi taught her math. Now you don't have an excuse to hang out with her anymore."

With a sarcastic scoff, Masaomi returned his cigarette to his lips. "As if I needed one in the first place. Besides, the last thing I want is to spend my summer doing homework that isn't mine."

From the other side of the bar, Saruhiko raised his dull tone to address Masaomi's optimism. "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you," he droned cynically. "She's still terrible at it."

By his side, Misaki groaned and rested his chin on the bar next to Saruhiko's folded arms. "Yeah, and I haven't slept in a week because I never know when I'm going to wake up to her hovering."

_Tsk_. Saruhiko rolled his eyes and moved his glass away from his friend like he anticipated him to make a scene as soon as he refuted his statement. "She doesn't do that."

As expected, Misaki lurched to life and pumped his balled fists in denial. If there had been a glass nearby, he surely would have upturned it. "Say that all you want, but I swear she does!" He turned his vacant stare towards the opposing side of the bar and glared into the abyss of his terror. "She's got those icy eyes that chill you to the bone. And every time I roll over, she's just there; on the floor, on the table-" He turned and jabbed his finger out towards his friend skeptically. "I swear I've seen her on the ceiling too!"

Saruhiko casually groaned. "That's what you get for playing horror games when she comes over."

"I thought she'd get scared and leave!" Misaki passionately justified. "It's not my fault she's a stone-cold savage!"

Izumo chuckled dryly. "Now that's funny," he rumbled with delight. "Our little lion's got Yata scared shitless."

Misaki stood and slammed his hands flat onto the bar. "I ain't afraid of her!" he thundered impatiently. "I just don't get why she's gotta hang out at our place all the time!"

On the other side of the conversation, Yō's brow creased with disbelief. "Are you kidding? That sounds-" He choked on the culmination of his sentence when he caught Masaomi's dark glower out of the corner of his eye.

"Say it," Masaomi instigated callously. "I dare you."

"Great," Yō challenged slyly. "It sounds just fucking great."

Dragging his palm into his brow, Masaomi grated exhaustion around the end of his cigarette. "Remind me again why we're friends?"

"Dunno, but I think I'm gonna hang out with Yata more often. Sounds like he's got it pretty good."

Overhearing his quip, Misaki leapt around the edge of the bar to shake his eager fist at Yō. "Good idea, Chitose! If you're hanging around, that should scare her away, for sure!"

"What the hell, Yata?!" Yō snapped back edgily. Affronted, he ignored Masaomi's chuckling as he threw his arms out to either side of him. "What would even make you say that!?"

From nearby, Rikio's low, rumbling laugh interrupted their banter. "Careful, Yata-san. Chitose and Nē-chan are closer than you give 'em credit for."

"What? No way." Misaki folded his arms over his chest and turned up his nose. "I've seen them hang out. She's harder on him than she is on me."

"It's called tough-love, you little jerk!" Yō barked intensely.

"Hey! What'd you just call me?!"

The congregation of their gazes shifted suddenly to the sound of the bar door flying open harshly, and the moment eyes fell on Saburōta's meandering steps, the lively conversation extinguished. He had tried to keep his feet under him the whole time he walked, clutching his shoulder, but when the man finally felt the relief of familiar ground beneath his soles, he gave up the fight and flopped onto the bar floor.

"Bandō!" Being the closest one to their fallen comrade, Rikio raised to his feet and rushed to his aid. He dropped on the floor next to his friend and took him up in his arms. "Shit, you're shakin' like crazy..." He turned his worrisome gaze towards the bar where Izumo had stopped everything he'd been doing to pay attention to the uproar. "Kusanagi-san! He's really cold!"

Panting with the exhaustion of the effort it took, Misaki navigated the bar tables in a fretful sprint before grinding to a halt and looking down at the unsettling sight. "Bandō, what the fuck happened?!" His wild gaze was fleeting as he searched his ally for wounds, but from what he could tell, he was relatively unscathed. However, the disturbing sight remained distressing. He had never seen one of his friends in such bad shape.

"Yata, move," Izumo instructed calmly before rushing past his obedience. He reached out and felt Saburōta's brow, his troubled gaze trying to figure out what had happened to make him so weak. "Kamamoto, help me get him upstairs."

With Rikio's aid, they managed to bring Saburōta back to his feet. Through the whirlwind of his journey and groggy senses, that seemed to jar him from his daze enough to attempt an explanation. "No, wait! We've gotta go back!" He felt nauseous, and the floor seemed to be liquid in front of his eyes. The room was too bright, and he couldn't focus on the words he heard coming from all directions.

When Izumo backed away to take Tatara's side, he noticed a chilling sight, and his heart dropped. "Bandō, is that Neirah's phone?"

Tatara's expression grew haunted with worry for immediately recognizing the charm hanging off the side of it. "It is..." he answered in place of their dissociated companion. "I got her that charm for her birthday."

Raising from his seat with a rushed clatter of chair legs, Masaomi joined the commotion. "She was with you, right?!" he demanded nervously. "Where is she now?"

"Hey! Dewa asked you a question!" Yō lurched forward like he was flashing aggression toward the disoriented man at the mouth of the bar, and his zeal forced Masaomi to shove him back into line. His assurance hadn't stopped Yō from displaying his inner turmoil in a trembling fist. "Where's Tsukiyo!?"

Saburōta's gaze widened and hearing her name seemed to help him focus. "He must've taken her." His words felt distant like someone else was speaking them for him. His hand ached for how tightly he clutched her phone, and the backs of his eyes burned with bitter fury. "I saw him. He was right there." His numb arm began to ache as he supported himself on Rikio's shoulder, and he dropped his head, his words hissed bitterly through ground teeth. "Then everything went dark... and when I woke up, she was gone."

He hacked on his next breath to the sound of commotion filling the bar when Yō grabbed hold of his collar to drag him upright. The effort of Yō holding up his friend had shortened his sleeves, and Saburōta could see it. Through aching eyes, he saw the sight of a black bangle on his wrist, the one that matched Neirah's. He'd screwed up. Once again, he managed to watch her fall from his sights without being capable of anything to help.

"What the hell do you mean gone?!" Yō's aching knuckles were trembling beneath his fierce grip as he tried to shake the answers from their dazed companion no matter how many hands tried to pull him back. "You mean to tell me you just sat there and let somebody take her away?!"

"Chitose, calm down!" Tatara fussed nervously. He held his hand flat against Yō's heaving chest to keep him away as Saburōta struggled to regain his footing with his palm clasped tight to his aching head. "It doesn't look like he had a choice in the matter..."

"No... he's right... I- I couldn't do anything," Saburōta muttered gravely. "What kind of a man am I if I can't even protect her when she needs me?" His world started to shift again, sending him swaying like he was on a ship deck as it rocked on a stormy sea. He could see her writhing beneath Goya's unfeeling grasp, see her falling away from him in a burning building. "I'm always there," he whimpered through a devastated welling of emotion. "And I can't do anything."

He startled to the feeling of Tatara's reassuring touch on his shoulder, flinching from the kindness. Just before his tears started to fall, he raised his gaze to Tatara's kind smile. "Hero-kun is being modest again," he teased meekly.

"No, this one's on her," Izumo quietly agreed. "I've told her about a hundred times to cover up that damn mark of hers. It's just as much a warning as it is a welcome. Now look at the trouble she's in." He heaved a settling sigh as the room started to silence around them. "But Totsuka's right. You made it back here to let us know what was going on. That's enough."

"Like hell it is!" Misaki turned his burning gaze towards their gathering with fury in his demanding tone. "So, we know she's gone. Are we just gonna sit here and wait for her to die?!"

"Cut it out," Izumo ordered sternly. "We don't know if that's even their objective here."

"But we don't know it's not either!" Misaki refuted. "They're probably doing this to get back at Mikoto-san for wrecking their plans!"

"It doesn't seem like they would take Nei-chan away and leave Bandō unharmed if that were the case," Tatara theorized. "It might not have anything to do with HOMRA at all. If they wanted to hurt them, wouldn't they have already done it?"

Rikio's apprehensive sights narrowed on his friend's lively display as he tried to mask his inner turmoil. "Yata-san, you're getting too worked up. Tsukiyo-san can take care of herself so we should just-"

"Just nothing!" Misaki irately slapped his skateboard down on the bar floor. "Are you all blind or somethin'?! She's a girl! He let them get their slimy hands on our girl, and you're all sitting here trying to tell him that it's okay?!"

"He could tone it down a couple of notches, but what he's saying isn't wrong," Saruhiko bleakly added as he joined the conversation. "Just knowing that somebody took her away isn't much of anything."

Tatara's concern for Saburōta deepened as he watched the man hang his head shamefully. He wanted to comfort him in his time of need, but Misaki and Saruhiko had a point. Neirah was gone, and aside from that, they didn't know much else. "Can you tell us anything else?"

Izumo's throat burned with a bitter curse as he watched Saburōta dig through his pocket to hold out his trembling upturned palm, and in its centre, there was a capsule dart commonly used for tranquillizing. It was the dart that Neirah had pulled out of her nape before being taken away, and it was likely that her captors had just assumed that it remained embedded in their target as they made their escape. Clumsy.

Izumo had seen something similar, making its way onto the streets recently, and his stomach lurched with the need to heave. "Well, shit," he muttered nervously. He picked the dart out of the shaking hand offering it and held his second set of fingers over his mouth. "Our little lion's not gonna like this."

Rikio turned and observed the tightening of Yō's body, quickly returning his attention towards where Izumo had fallen back a step to take a seat deep in thought. "Wait, isn't that-"

"Yeah…" Izumo heaved a heavy sigh, staring blankly forward as he passed the dart blindly over his shoulder towards his king. The latter had finally decided to drag his tight body towards their conversation. He flopped his arm by his side and pulled his lighter out of his pocket to the sound of Mikoto's grim consideration. He tried not to let his fellow clansmen realize his own hands were trembling with worry as he lit himself a cigarette. After igniting the end of his light and inhaling a deep breath of the toxin, he let the nicotine settle his nerves so he could keep his tone even as he spoke. "What do you wanna do, Mikoto?" He pinched his light between his fingers and exhaled as steadily as he could. "They've got our lioness, and it seems to me that she probably got shot up with the same stuff they got Bandō with."

Mikoto stared down at the dart for a long moment before his fingers folded around its surface. Igniting his fist, the temperatures the syringe suffered left nothing behind by the time he turned his fingers over and released the pressure. "Find them," he muttered evenly. Despite his calm exterior, the gaze he raised to face the sight of Rikio trying to keep Saburōta on his feet filled with enraged venom. "And burn 'em."

"Should I wake Anna?"

Before Mikoto could answer, Misaki's expression had brightened with purpose, and he took off towards the door. Izumo's brow impatiently knotted as he watched the youth storm through the bar towards the exit. "Yata, where are you going?"

"You heard Mikoto-san!" he turned over his shoulder to demand. "We gotta find those creeps and get Tsukiyo back! Come on, Fushimi!"

Saruhiko didn't budge, and when he didn't, Misaki had slowed to a stop expectantly with a deep crease in his brow. In response to his apparent confusion, Saruhiko diverted his gaze with an irritated scoff and remained rooted among their clanmates. "Moron, you don't even know where they're keeping her," he reasoned coldly. "You just gonna run around banging on doors until someone throws her at your feet?"

"If that's what it takes." Misaki seemed taken aback by the fact that he was the only one jumping to life. "What the fuck else am I supposed to do?"

"She's not a damsel," Izumo instructed sternly. "Rushing into this could be exactly what they're hoping for, so I think it's best we figure out what they're after before playin' right into their hands."

Misaki turned over his shoulder and glared at them furiously. "You guys think she's some kick-ass assassin, but she's still just a girl! And if they got her all drugged up, then how's she supposed to fight back?!"

"You're the one who always says she's savage," Saruhiko reminded him coarsely. "So why don't we just find out where they're keeping her and-"

Misaki turned away and dropped his head with an impatient howl. "And what if we're too late?!" His fists shook by his sides as his worrisome scowl tapered and stared at the floorboards beneath his feet. He milled his teeth, his muscles aching to relieve their tension in the form of her defence. "Look, I know what I said, okay?!"

_"Because I needed somewhere to belong."_

He shook his head with a bitter hiss and took off out the door to the sound of Rikio's nervous holler. "Yata-san, wait!"

"Do whatever you want!" Misaki called back bitterly. "While you're at it, I'm gonna go start kickin' in doors! I'll tear this city apart until I find out where they're keeping her!"

"But Yata-san-!"

"Let him go," Izumo murmured calmly. "It'll be good for him to learn that things aren't always gonna go his way."

Rikio turned fretful eyes towards Izumo expectantly. "You mean when he can't find her?"

Izumo let a faint grin find his grave expression. "Not quite..."


	7. Ketamine

**Ketamine**

* * *

All Neirah could think about as her aching head throbbed uncontrollably was that her Friday night had gone the exact opposite of what she'd asked. Her face tightly bound as she focused on comprehending her circumstances. She could feel the pressure of steel binding her wrists above her head, and it was clear from how heavy she was that her toes barely connected with the ground. She knew she wasn't alone, so before Neirah gave anyone the satisfaction of playing the damsel, she made her best attempt at figuring out her situation before opening her eyes.

She could recall yelling through her phone and the laughter of her games with her friend, but Saburōta wasn't with her. Instead, she felt alone and cold in his absence. She shivered as the feeling began to rush into her limbs only to remind her of the pain her elongated position left her in, and she felt numb from the suspension. Neirah knew she was still, but she felt like the ring she dangled by was rocking her back and forth. But, above everything else, she was enraged.

It made her wonder how long she'd been fighting her consciousness for clarity. She could hear words spoken around her, laughter, but she couldn't bring herself to comprehend their meaning. Cigar smoke wafted in her direction and made her nose try to wrinkle with the sour memories it surfaced, but she couldn't quite recall what they were. The only thing she could focus on clearly was that Saburōta wasn't with her. What she wanted to know was whether she should feel relieved by that.

The last thing she could remember was the sight of his regrettable gaze locking with hers, and then everything went dark. She hated the dark, the cold, everything she was feeling. She worked so hard to escape it, and she felt the frigid claw of reality coiling around her sagging body like a snake making its way to her throat where her last defence warded off its slither. She wanted to touch her choker, feel the reassuring warmth of red resting against her collar. That desire encouraged her fingers to make a fist, and with the sound of the chains rattling, she knew it was time to face her circumstance bravely.

When her thoughts began to clear, she interrupted the sound of merry banter around her with a dull hiss. "Where is he?" She waited for the gathering of three or four to silence before slowly opening her eyes and focussing her distorted sense of vision on her captors. She tried to remain calm even as her revealed sights followed the surroundings that rolled like waves around her. She had to remind herself that walls and floors didn't act that way. Unfortunately, no matter how badly she wanted to clear her mind with logic, her body didn't seem convinced. "There was someone else with me when I lost consciousness," she repeated quietly. "Why isn't he here now?"

Yasuda was the first one snorting his entertainment to her bold demand. "Well, look at you," he mocked dryly. "Ya can't just be thankful that you're still wearing clothes, huh? Gotta go and worry about your little boyfriend. Don't you worry. We left his clothes alone too."

As the bright concrete room ignited with laughter, the only flicker behind her gaze wasn't an emotion but fire as she remained stony in front of them. They were too loud. The room was too bright and vast. She could only imagine it would have been far more comfortable if it were on fire. "I'm only recently regaining my senses, so perhaps I wasn't clear enough the first time." She flexed her shackled arms and clasped the chain binding her in her palms. As her gaze tapered, the links began to sear. "Where. is-"

Yasuda's smile twisted with malicious humour as he watched her confidence fade with her realization. "You're right. You musta been good and jostled not to have noticed that one."

Neirah's head snapped upwards to examine the shackles she hung by, and she felt the sudden surge of panic choke her words. When a tall man reached out and took a tight hold of her face to redirect her gaze, she immediately rooted herself in the present.

"You keep somethin' like this with you when you're huntin', don't you?" Kuriko reached up and flicked the chain with his nail, making it sing softly with his disturbance. "Tungsten. See? You're not the only one who can do their homework."

A flood of enquiries sloshed around her mind, and she tried to calculate the likelihood of being able to melt her bindings. The reason she chose tungsten for her weapon was that it would withstand her flames, so chances of her being able to free herself of the cuffs were slim. While her peripherals scanned the ceiling, a sudden rush of relief flooded her to examine the ring dangling above her head. Although slight alarm remained, she regained some of her assurance and replaced her lethal scowl. "Very well. You have my attention."

Kuriko snorted to deride her tact. "You've made quite a name for yourself down here, haven't you?" he started confidently. "People underground call you the Red Lion, know you do the recon for the Red Monster."

Her bindings rattled with the tension tightening her body to test the response of her awakened muscles. Even though she kept her irises focused on her captors, she was careful to let her peripherals absorb her surroundings. "If you're so well informed, it raises the question of your motives. You can't want to catch HOMRA's eye, so why is it we're here?"

"That's a real easy question to answer," he murmured deviously. "One of 'em's because we _don't_ want to catch attention. That's why we brought you to this place. We want information, and by our reckoning, you've got it in spades, kitty cat. Once we get what we want, you'll be free to chase off after your little boyfriend. No harm, no foul."

Neirah's spirits seemed to lift slightly with relief. "You let him go?"

"Not entirely true," Yasuda piped in nearby. "Never took 'im to begin with."

"You're the one with the information we want," Kuriko interrupted by poking her square in the chest. "Not to say that he was useless, but when we knew you were the main player, it seemed like wasted effort bringing you both back. See, we're not lookin' to get in the Red Monster's bad books here. All we're after are the names of the people we should be avoiding if we want to stay in the clear, know what I'm sayin'?"

_'So that's one reason...'_ Neirah's aching brow was beginning to throb under the pressure of her bemusement. "You think that if you silence the Red Clan's informants without directly harming a clansman, you'll be off the hook?" She watched him hesitate to consider her recap, and she wondered if they were so stunned. "That's why you let him go. Is that right?"

"Right," Kuriko agreed. "Consider it like a peace offering to Suoh Mikoto. And once we get some names outta you, you'll be free to join 'im."

Neirah almost smiled, but she was also vaguely aware that her confidence had gotten the best of her before. To be cautious, she remained void and pressed the matter at hand. "I suppose that if you don't want us poking around your operation, you intend to cause a bit of a stir." She raised her undaunted gaze to synchronize with her interrogator's. "If I were to take a shot in the dark, I might suggest that whatever you injected me with earlier this evening might be making its way onto the streets of Shizume soon."

Yasuda stood and made his confident approach. "More than just a pretty face, eh?" he mocked brightly. He flashed her the sight of his silenced pistol before unloading one of the darts to display. "There's a bit of profit to be had in taking somethin' so regulated and sellin' it on the side. Doubt your monster would be too happy about it, though. That's why we'd rather he not figure us out."

"And to silence me?" she cross-examined briskly. "What makes you think I won't tell my superiors everything we discuss?"

"We're but humble servants of a higher power ourselves," Kuriko crooned musically. "You could tell 'im we hauled you up in this old parkin' garage and asked you all these questions, but it won't do him a lick of good to burn up this big hunka rock."

Neirah's thoughts scrambled to focus on the situation at hand. "Because your leader and product are somewhere safe while you take care of the noise at ground level."

Kuriko snapped his fingers and then pointed at the woman with a cheery smirk. "Bingo, baby. Our job ends with you, so you can sick 'em on us all you want. It's not gonna get you any closer to the real deal."

Her nerves burned wrathfully, and all of a sudden, she could see why Saburōta was so displeased about her pet name for him. But he was safe. Reassured, she regained some of the confidence she needed to ignore the daunting memories of her past that clawed their way to the surface. She had shed her metaphorical chains months ago and swore to better herself for her king. Because of that, she decided to turn their interrogation into her own.

Her grip on her bindings tightened, causing the tones of mixed alloys to ring harmoniously above. That way, when she was ready to leave them in a pile of ash, she could return the information they spilt to Izumo, and HOMRA could make their move on the heart of the operation.

"Very well," she murmured tranquilly. "Then let me ask you this, what makes you think that we have anyone working with us on the outside?" She raised her hot gaze to the look of concern flashing on their faces. "What makes you think that anyone other than the Red Lioness gathers intel for the Red Monster?" She was the hunter for the king of their pride. Despite their best efforts to avoid it, the men before her had become enemies of HOMRA. She had no intention of outing their connections. Those civilians were just as much a part of her as her clan. Soon, she felt the uncontainable need to purge the hesitant fear in the eyes of her enemies who were already considering that they had sealed their fates.

* * *

"What was that address again?

Okay, thanks.

Yeah, they did, but don't worry about it. I'm actually surprised she hasn't busted the place up already.

Not tonight, but soon. We're just gonna go get our girl back, and we'll be on our way." Izumo hung up his mobile and raised a piece of paper from the bar to his observation. "That's interesting. They took her somewhere kind of public, by the looks of it. I guess they're bein' smart about it after all. They must know the golds've got their eyes on us. Another stunt like at the harbour or the centre, and we could be gettin' a visit from the gold king real soon."

"It seems like they're going through great lengths to keep us from getting involved," Tatara calmly theorized. "Which makes me wonder why they even took her in the first place."

Izumo tipped his gaze towards where Saburōta was still sulking by the bar, exhaustion keeping his head heavy as he tried to remain conscious of their effort to retrieve what he'd lost. "Information, maybe? They must've caught on to the fact that we don't run on our own. Probably realize that they don't have a prayer against Mikoto, so they're tryin' to cut off our supply chain instead. The kid must be gettin' sloppy."

There was a hint of impatience in Tatara's mildly fretful expression as he looked back towards his friend. "It's not fair to blame Nei-chan like that," he gently reprimanded. "She has a lot to worry about outside of what you have her do for King."

Izumo turned to look over his shoulder in observation of where Saruhiko had stood and excused himself from the bar, half of his thoughts actively wondering if he was going to track down his friend. "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it is," he admitted dryly. "We're here now, so we might as well deal with it and get ready for the aftermath."

"It looks like we're going to have to make an example of them too," Mikoto groaned unenthusiastically. "I was hopin' that our spat with the Yakuza earlier this year would ward off this kind of thing for a little longer."

"Don't light up just yet there, Your Highness," Izumo cautioned him sardonically. "Kokujōji-san's not foolin' around. You know we can't just burn up everythin' we damn well please."

The Red King offered his second a low growl in retort. "And why not? He can't be too keen on the idea of organized crime poppin' up on his watch, either." He snorted briskly. Then, he removed his cigarette from his mouth, tapping the ashes over the tray by his folded arm. "The way I see it, we're doin' him a favour."

"That's dangerous thinkin', Mikoto," Izumo drawled smoothly. He reached out and topped his king's ashes with his own as they continued their conversation through a cloud of smoke. "I don't know if he's too keen operating on the philosophy that _the ends justify the means_. He does things his own way."

Mikoto snorted brusquely. "Looks like he should've done somethin' sooner, then."

"All that aside," Tatara interrupted. "How would the mafia know that there's any tension between kings at all? Something about this whole thing just feels off."

Absorbing the man's intuition, Izumo sighed and diverted his gaze. "I didn't wanna bring this up until we got Neirah back, but it looks like the head of this little operation might be a Strain, maybe even one who got out of that centre we took down when we had it out with the blues over Anna. With the blues disbanded and the Gold King breathin' down our necks to behave ourselves, he's probably thinkin' he's got a pretty good shot at gettin' his way, whatever that is."

Tatara started to fidget with unrest. "Ever since SCEPTRE4 disbanded, there have been a lot of Strain-related incidents recently. It's hard to keep up." He turned his meek gaze to face Mikoto worrisomely. "But, this is the first time since Goya that one has challenged you directly."

Mikoto scoffed lightly with what one could perceive as amusement. "Must be because the others were smarter."

"Still, we should take this seriously," Izumo calmly instructed. "Once we get Neirah back, we should try to figure out where the heart of their operation beats. If we don't stop it from feeding blood to the cocky vessels doing their dirty work for them, even we're gonna have to watch our backs. Some of the Strains that popped out of that place were real monsters." He tried his hardest not to take notice of how Saburōta's fists were clenching and unclenching with the waves of guilt passing him by throughout their conversation. "If Bandō wasn't there tonight, we would've been completely blindsided."

Nearby, Yō had climbed from his chair, eager to advance. "Great, so we all agree to worry about the details later, right? Let's go then. If there's even one scratch on that kid by the time we roll up, the Gold King's gonna have to come pry me off them 'cause I'm gonna kill them all."

Mikoto slid his narrowed leer towards the ambitious man and gave a light scoff. "Not if your _own_ king's got anythin' to say about it." He diverted his gaze to the sight of his subordinate clamming up, respectful of Mikoto's command. "If I can't cut loose, neither can any of you brats." Admittedly, some of the tension had left his body when he turned his restrained sigh towards the concerned smile on Tatara's face. "But if this group is headed up by a Strain, we can't just turn away from it, right?" There was almost a hopeful song in his voice as he spoke, to denote his eagerness.

Tatara gave one solid nod in agreement. "It would kind of leave the situation in a big grey area. We wouldn't necessarily be in the wrong if we did fight back."

Izumo hummed thoughtfully in approval. "I guess that one might actually work in our favour."

From where he'd lingered just outside the front doorway in the dark street, Saruhiko quietly turned away from the display and raised his phone to his ear. He let it ring a couple of times, and finally, he heard Misaki's agitated voice cut over the line breathlessly like the interruption to his mad-dash was unwelcome.

"What do you want, Fushimi?" he snapped edgily. "Can't you tell I'm busy?!"

It was apparent that Misaki was still bitter, but just because Saruhiko hadn't joined him didn't mean he didn't have his best interest at heart. To the sound of the impact that Misaki's shoe made to render his informant unconscious, Saruhiko snorted impatiently and made sure his body kept concealed in the entryway. "Yeah, I can tell," he muttered casually. "How's that working out for you?"

"It would have gone better if you had come with me, so just shut the hell up and tell me what you want!"

Rolling his eyes, Saruhiko continued to support the team that Misaki thought he'd abandoned that night. "Kusanagi's pretty sure he figured out where they're keeping Tsukiyo."

"What?! And you didn't tell me?!"

Saruhiko groaned as he avoided the blaring coming through his phone. Once the speakers had silenced, he returned the device to his ear with an impatient sigh. "I just did," he reminded him quietly. "I'll send you the location, seeing as I doubt you'd remember it if I told you."

The tone of Misaki's voice coming over the line had seemed to brighten gratefully. "Aw man, you're the best, Saru!"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko peeked over his shoulder to where their team started to assemble inside the bar. "It looks like Mikoto-san's getting ready to make his move, so you're not gonna have a lot of time to be the hero."

On a quiet street across town, Misaki froze in his tracks, one foot planted firmly on his motionless skateboard as the other prepared to shove off the asphalt. "Wait, what the hell do you mean by that?!" He recoiled to the sound of his friend's bitter scoff clicking over the line. He raised his wrist closer to his face and yelled at it like his watch had just insulted him. "Hey! I asked you a question!"

Saruhiko ignored his complaining entirely to continue. "Kusanagi says that there might be a Strain involved, so keep your head up. You might be walkin' into a trap."

Misaki had utterly missed his warning to shout at his detached friend some more. "Hold on! Go back to what you said about Tsukiyo!" He flinched to the realization that at some point while he was yelling his rebuttal, the connection had cut out entirely, and he'd been infuriated further. "Fushimi? Hey! Answer me!"

He barked his rage and shoved off the ground to start his trek. "Damn it! Who says I'm tryin' to be a damn hero!? I'd do the same if it were any of you!" After receiving the known location of their missing hunter, he powered off the pavement a couple of times with a vexed knot in his face. "Stupid monkey," he grumbled quietly under his breath. "I'm not doing it just 'cause she's a girl."

His tone grew solemn as he abruptly shifted his centre of gravity to make a sharp turn between two vast structures. After the initial storm of his rage had quieted, a deeper concern began to fester within his lonely thoughts. "I'd do the same for any of you... Why can't you see that?"

After sending off the suspected location of Neirah's whereabouts, Saruhiko found himself unexpectedly joined by the intimidating presence of his king. When Mikoto had poked his head outside the bar, Saruhiko was guilt-stricken, making his characteristically calm expression distort.

Mikoto withdrew his cigarette from between his lips and set the stick ablaze to incinerate its remains before turning his golden eyes on his clansman. "You comin'?"

Saruhiko seemed confused that there was ever any doubt that he would act for his clan. "Yeah, sure," he muttered apprehensively. "Aren't we all going?"

Mikoto turned over his shoulder to observe where Tatara was trying to restrain Saburōta from stumbling off after their gathering.

"No way! You can't leave me here!" Saburōta did his best to struggle, but eventually, he ended up falling to the floor beneath Tatara's capture. "It's my fault they took her! If I don't go-"

"Calm down," Tatara reprimanded gently. "You're not exactly fighting-fit at the moment. Our tip says there's only a few of them covering the garage, so we don't all have to go. This way, things are less likely to get out of hand." He smiled back at the riled man to pass along his reassurance. "King and the others can handle this one, so let's just stay here in case Anna wakes up and wonders what's happening."

From where he collapsed spread out on the floor, Saburōta's hands tightened into fists and finally, he knocked his brow against the floorboards in defeat. "I don't know if my pride can take much more of this."

"Don't be so dramatic," Izumo scolded him exhaustedly. "The six of us might get there to a real pissed off lion wondering what the hell took us so long."

Tatara giggled lightly to support Izumo's confidence. "Lion-chan can be impatient sometimes."

"I'm more concerned about Yata-san," Rikio muttered grimly. "Won't he be mad if we go without him?"

Izumo smiled, glancing towards the doorway where Mikoto and Saruhiko waited for them to join. It amused him while considering what might be happening outside of their comprehension, and it sparked a recollection of an ancient story similar to their situation.

As he wondered, his gaze connected with Saruhiko's for just a moment before Saruhiko was diverting his sheepishly. "Don't be silly," Izumo crooned knowingly in the address of their nervous companion. "I'm sure our Yata-chan will be standin' there next to her just as pissed off."

* * *

The parking garage consisted of an access level and three lower tiers where parked vehicles could be delivered if the facility wasn't inoperative for construction purposes. That was what Misaki could tell from the mapping schematic posted just outside the facility. He growled lightly and kicked up the nose of his skateboard so that it didn't make any more noise upon his approach. He ducked under the caution tape meant to detour intruders and immediately backed himself into a concrete pillar to the sound of his potential opponents passing.

"Seems strange that they're still down there. That brat they brought back must be playing hardball."

"That's probably because they refuse to get rough with her. They don't want to piss off the Red Monster."

Misaki tipped his impatient glower around the corner to observe where the armed men conversed among themselves. His grip on his plain charcoal board tightened as he considered their words. _They should be afraid_, he thought menacingly. He turned back towards the diagram posted nearby and studied the layout of the building. From what the men unknowingly divulged, he was confident that they held Neirah in the basement level of the structure. They would likely keep her out of sight until her captors got what they wanted, which up until then seemed to be nothing.

Misaki considered how long the thugs had separated her from her clan, and it made him believe that the remainder of Mikoto's forces were probably on their way. If what the watchmen said was true, it was a possibility that they were running out of patience with the woman, and that was a serious consideration. They were armed, and by the looks of it, the weapons they carried housed real ammunition, not the darts that knocked out Saburōta and Neirah earlier that evening. Misaki figured that he should have felt intimidated, at the very least, but every time he wanted to be afraid, he saw his king challenging fate. Through his king, he'd learned to hold his ground no matter the threat, and he would do just that when one of his clanmate's lives hung in the balance.

He had said it many times; Neirah wasn't special. He wanted to see her like the rest of his clansmen, but he couldn't ignore the sense of urgency tightening his body with the need to act boldly on her behalf. Misaki had never had a hard time saying what was on his mind, but when it came to HOMRA's hunter, he was a mess. The truth was that she _was_ special. She wasn't like most women he'd known, and he was having a hard time accepting that. She was strong and brave, but somewhere deep down, she had a sensitive side too. He knew it because he had seen it once, and it left him with the instinctual need to protect it.

It was true that he would have done the same for any of his friends, but it was a lie to say that his feelings towards her were the same. He couldn't see her as one of the guys, but he also couldn't see a damsel waiting for rescue. The only truth he had to accept was that somewhere beneath his feet, a friend waited for backup, and there was nothing complicated about that.

His heart was racing, and as he slammed up against the column, he couldn't help but smile. Nothing was boring about his life anymore, and he loved it. The last thing that he wanted to do before challenging the task before him was to message Saruhiko and assure him that they were right about Neirah's location. It would have been unfair for him to keep all the action for himself. He started to fidget with his watch, still a little overwhelmed at times that it could do so much. Between the two of them, he had to be sure that through their team communication, their mighty king would make it to their mark.

As he tapped away at the illuminated device, the men floating nearby hummed curiously to the sight of the post beside them brightening. "Huh? What's that over there? Is that a light?"

"Don't be stupid. This place has been INOP for weeks-"

With a determined shout announcing his borrowed confidence, Misaki dashed from around the pillar in a burst of flame. Watching them raise their weapons through thick chestnut bangs, he kicked his skateboard into the first villain to aim, and before the second could comprehend the strike, he braced force against the elbow buried into the man's solar plexus. Once his target dropped, he was leaping quickly out of harm's way when his previously distracted opponent tossed aside the board to open fire.

"Where'd this brat come from?!" he demanded in outrage. "Does that mean the Red Monster's already found us?! How the hell is that possible!?"

As Misaki ducked behind the cover of a second pillar, he noticed that the gunshots echoing in the lot's main level had attracted the attention of others standing guard. It disgusted him that they thought that they were going to get away with their plans without facing interference. The fact that anyone thought they could pull the wool over HOMRA's keen eyes set his blood on fire.

He could feel the power in his feet as he kicked off the pavement and charged into battle, his fingers simultaneously gripping a scrap piece of construction rebar as he climbed. "You bastards..."

"There he is!"

"Shoot the little punk."

Through teeth clenched tightly, Misaki passionately barked his aggravated retort as he swung his improvised weapon. "Don't look down on HOMRA!"

To the feeling of bones cracking beneath his assault, he numbed himself to the sound of agonized cries and ricocheting gunshots. His king's confidence was his confidence, and their power synchronized through the execution of Mikoto's will. Even if they weren't friends, even if he didn't care, at some point before Misaki had learned what the Red Clan was, Neirah was already a member. She had stood tall and taken Mikoto's hand, following him down whatever path he made. It was their path; his, hers, their king's. They were one indomitable unit, and when a piece of them was missing, nothing seemed right.

When sharp senses picked up the sound of mechanical whirring, he quickly jerked his attention to where the scaffolding set up around the garage had started to shift and deliver new resistance to his battle. Propelling himself into an improvised back handspring, he slammed his foot down on his skateboard to flip it onto its wheels and prepared it for him to drop squarely onto its centre.

Whisking his arm out to one side allowed him to send the ignited rebar across the main floor of the garage, causing his enemies to scatter away from the flames it emitted on its scalding approach. The sound of their alarmed whimpers was satisfying as they clamoured around the sight of his upheaval in terror, and the conceit caused a cocky grin to display on his menacing expression.

"W-who the hell is this kid?!"

Without thinking about the way the building was rocking in pandemonium, Misaki took the time to reach his shirt collar and tug it so he could reveal the badge he'd proudly received from his king. At that moment, the welcome had faded, and he slipped as much warning into his words as he could. "I'm HOMRA, just like the one you stole from us earlier tonight. And I'm here to take her back."

Neirah's senses awakened to the sound of the building unstably tremoring as it hummed to life, and when gunshots started to fill her ears, a crooked grin was flashing teeth behind the bloody split in her swollen lip. As far as she was concerned, that was her cue.

"Crap! They found us already?!" Kuriko sent out the remainder of their company until only Yasuda and Neirah remained. "We're not done here! Keep them off of us while we finish this up!"

"That settles one thing," Yasuda snapped apprehensively. "They've definitely got sources outside of this one. She was here the whole time, so there was no way that she could've told them we were here!"

"Idiot! That's obvious!" Kuriko snapped. "Get out there and help them!"

While they argued, Neirah unlocked her burning muscles, her fingers gently coiling around the chain seizing her shackles. Unfortunately, that disturbance caused Kuriko to growl upon his approach.

The feeling of him shoving his pistol against her temple was cold and uncomfortable, but she didn't yelp over the pain. As far as she was concerned, suffering the hit was the least she could do for what he was about to experience.

"Alright, you little bitch. Start talking! If I don't like what I hear in the next ten seconds, you're as good as dead."

Above her head, she could hear the tungsten chain starting to hiss as it gorged on the heat of her flames. There was a toxic flash in her eyes as the fire awakened, and the damsel vanished beneath his threat. "I guess your peace offering was inadequate," she droned through sultry malice. "That's too bad. I was quite grateful, you know."

Kuriko snarled his warning through crooked smoke-stained teeth as his ebony gaze tapered. "If Suoh's comin' for me anyway, I'm takin' you with me."

Startling them both, Yasuda came crashing past their banter in the recess with an alarmed yelp. "Kuriko! It's-"

"Shut your mouth!" Misaki ordered callously. "The only thing I want to hear out of you is where they're keepin' Tsukiyo-san!"

Neirah's once calm and menacing glower brightened until her face was displaying a vulnerable pink in her cheeks. She wanted to linger on the sentiment of his unanticipated declaration for a little longer when she snapped to attention at the sight of Kuriko filling with alarm. When Kuriko redirected his firearm on her unsuspecting clanmate, venom immediately flooded her eyesight, and she became the savage Misaki had always boasted her to be.

The unexpected sound of the gunshot coming from behind him caused a bitter curse to cut past Misaki's lips as he ducked like that was the reason Kuriko's shot had missed. When he whirled to face the origin, he paled to the sight of Neirah's thighs coiled tightly around the man's neck.

She was still groggy, so it wasn't easy to get her core to contract and land her legs around Kuriko's throat, but she could sleep once her friend was safe. She kept her target pinched beneath her left knee joint, causing him to gag and tear at her denim like he thought he could pry her off. With her right thigh, she pressured his head to the side in her vise until he was retching breathlessly with asphyxiation. She had become the cobra to strike back at reality, and she showed no mercy when he dropped his pistol to dig both sets of fingers into her calves.

"Kuriko!"

Misaki startled to the sight of Yasuda diving towards the pistol that Kuriko had dropped, and before he could reach it, Misaki was slide-tackling it out of reach. "No way, pal!" he barked impatiently. As soon as the gun was out of the way, he barreled into the man to keep him distracted as Kuriko began to lose consciousness.

He beat Yasuda to the gun with a triumphant yip and quickly rolled to his feet before directing the firearm towards the man with a smirk. "End of the line, fatty." Luckily for him, the threat of him holding the weapon was enough to get Yasuda to surrender meekly. The fact that he'd never shot a gun in his life didn't come into play whatsoever.

Neirah's gaze sharpened as she took in the sights and sounds around her in preparation for battle. Her focus deepened, the chain above her head boiling as she felt the resistance of the weight between her legs drop limply to the concrete beneath.

She panted her effort, and after another couple of seconds, the tungsten had heated enough that it weakened the steel ring supporting her binds. Soon, she was dropping from the ceiling into a deep crouch with a satisfied smile. Her captors were smart enough to bind her with an alloy that very few of her clansmen were powerful enough to melt, but through a chain reaction, the feeble ring above had cut with a ringing clatter. She was a little unsteady at first, with her head still reeling from the drugs they'd subdued her with earlier that evening, but overall, her response time wasn't unimpressive.

She straightened with a gratified sigh and met Misaki's fascinated gaze, offering him a crooked, alluring smile in the process. "That's why my legs are so strong to answer your question from earlier." She meditated quietly for a moment to regain her footing on rubber limbs and then stepped over Kuriko's unconscious mass left drooling against the concrete foundation. "To think that could have been you."

Misaki stared at her for a long moment, not sure whether to be mortified or entertained. That was the confusion that was their hunter, and at that particular moment, he almost admitted that it held a certain charm. Surrendering to the realization, he found himself sniggering deviously to her quip. "Savage," he hummed devilishly. Unfortunately, while Misaki focused on Neirah's triumph, Yasuda had taken the opportunity to scamper away clumsily.

Catching the sight of Yasuda's retreat, Neirah lurched to life. Her hands were still bound, but if anyone could fight while chained, it was her. She tossed out the slack of her bindings to halt the man by his throat. Once he was staggered, she raised her foot and slammed it into his tailbone to force his windpipe into the links. Just as she was about to step away, Misaki lurched forward with a deadly look in his eyes, causing her to flinch towards the shot that he'd squeezed off from the pistol. "Yata-san, no!"

He flinched, alarmed that she tried to protect him from shooting the man who'd been responsible for kidnapping her. "W-wait, why the hell not?"

She lowered her hand from where it had diverted his shot and turned her gaze to the unconscious men at their feet. "They're unconscious. We don't need to do any more than that to escape."

"Escape?!" he refuted passionately. "B-but they-"

"We're not like them."

There was masked tenderness in her gaze that took him by surprise and caused his words to stall in his throat as she turned to face him. He had spent a lot of time avoiding her, so he'd never really taken the time to absorb her earnestly. Before his staggered hazel gaze had retreated to the passion in her eyes, he took notice of how big and bright they were beneath her wild auburn bangs. When the dynamic lick of crimson flame flirted with her focused irises, violet sparks reflected in the sparkling globes. He thought he had never met anyone so sure of the world around them.

"We're both of a clan mentality, but we're not criminals," she nearly whispered. "We're better than this, aren't we?" Her question was rhetorical, not that the man could have answered her anyway. "Don't make trouble for our king."

He allowed her to lower the weapon before his disgusted grimace returned, and he tossed it to the side. "Y-yeah..." He stepped over Yasuda's sprawled mass and scoffed. "Tsk, they weren't worth it anyway."

Misaki was busy admiring the woman's self-control, so he hadn't noticed their enemies sneaking up through the concrete corridor. As soon as he heard their firearms pop, he was slamming into Neirah and collapsing them both to the floor. "Watch out!" As soon as they were in the clear, he grabbed her forearm and jerked her along the floor until they could take cover behind the concrete support beam nearby. "Crap, my bad. I didn't really think this through," he panted breathlessly. "I swear, there didn't seem like that many when I first got here."

Neirah's face twisted up in surprise to hear him state his words so casually. "Wait, why do you say that like you're the only one here?" She stilled, wild-eyed and curious as he diverted his bashful pout away from her observation. She couldn't help but smile at the vague communication crossing between them, and she stated the only words she could think of in response. "Thank you."

Misaki turned his humiliated expression her way, recalling when Izumo warned him that there would come a time when Neirah would have his back. That time was moments ago when she incapacitated their enemies while he was too busy focussing on their interrogation. He supposed what made him angriest about it was that despite that warning, he was still a bumbling fool while _she_ thanked _him_.

"Don't be stupid!"

Neirah flinched, more for his display in passion than for insult. "I'm sorry?"

Misaki shook his head, irritated with how flustered she made him. He could admit a lot of things to himself, but for whatever reason, he couldn't express himself in front of her. "L-look, I know you had this, okay?! I-I wasn't worried at all!"

Neirah smiled humbly and flopped her chained wrists between her raised knees. When the underground shaft rang with gunfire, their cover began to crumble away in pieces from the stone pillar. "Wolf-kun is safe?"

Misaki startled to her calm interruption. "Huh? You mean Bandō? Yeah, he's back at the bar with Totsuka-san, why?"

She closed her eyes and heaved a settling sigh. "Because when one of my friends is in trouble, I worry until I know for sure they're safe." Knowingly, she slowly tipped her gaze his way, her expression soft and warm as she spoke. "Isn't it the same for you?"

He could feel his face getting hotter with the embarrassment of her lecturing him on _his_ feelings, but in a way, it was comforting that she understood even if he blundered. That was part of what made her special. "Y-yeah, I guess so."

Neirah's expression hardened shortly after as she climbed to her feet and assessed the length of the chain in her care. She was getting sick of bullets pelting their backs. Usually, she would find it exhilarating to navigate the intricate design of the building around them, but in her current state, her tangle-hazard was high. "We're currently on the lowest floor, aren't we?"

He peeked around the corner next to her, nearly losing the eye he spied their enemies with when he did. "Yeah," he snapped apprehensively.

"How many levels?"

"Three." He flinched to the sound of her low and thoughtful rumble, and it didn't sound like that answer had pleased her. "I know! I shoulda taken more of 'em out when I was topside, but-"

"I understand. You were in a hurry."

"B-but not because I was worried!"

"It's fine," she reassured him tenderly. "We'll make due." From the other side of their cover, she took a look at their surroundings and began to feel a little claustrophobic. "They've got us boxed in, and if we're not careful, this whole place is going to come down on our heads. Everything's shifting."

Misaki turned to face her, reassurance in his bright tone as he made his confident proclamation. "That's okay, though! Mikoto-san is coming here as we speak! The rest of them should be here any minute now," he exclaimed proudly. For some reason, he had a hard time trying to figure out why she looked so mortified to hear him say such things. "W-what?"

"I was hoping to enjoy the fact that we've finally come to terms, but it looks to me like we're probably going to get buried alive."

"Cut that out!" he snapped sheepishly. "It already pisses me off enough when Fushimi does it!"

"Try to keep up, Yata-san."

Misaki's expression went slack with disbelief as she ducked around the pillar to excuse herself from the conversation. When the ringing of gunshots started hammering into the structure again, he was leaping to his feet to give chase. "Are you nuts?!"

Maybe she was a little crazy. That's what she thought as she danced around the skeletons of vehicle elevators despite being without the use of her hands. The truth of the matter was that she had worried less about being crushed and more about not making it back to her king, holding the information she managed to gather that night. The liberating adrenaline coursing through her veins had successfully nullified any effects of her sedation hours after her attack. All that was left was to burn.


	8. Keyway

**Keyway**

* * *

"This isn't fair!" Saburōta griped intolerantly. "I should be out there right now, helping them, not sitting here being babysat like a damn kid!"

From where he sat next to a distraught Saburōta at the quiet bar, Tatara kept his mild grin locked on display, but it was hard to keep from showing his exhaustion in the crease of his brow. "Don't look at it that way," he encouraged. "We're the ones doing the babysitting. Anna's just upstairs, you know."

"Tatara."

Saburōta yelped, nearly losing the racing heart from his chest to the sound of Anna's quiet address. Tatara remained unfazed as he calmly turned to face the gentle Strain with a fond smile. "Oh, Anna. Were we too loud?" Partial amusement broadened his welcoming smile as he listened to Saburōta hack on the water he'd been encouraged to drink. "I'm sorry if we woke you."

Anna drifted closer, her sleepy gaze scanning the bar for the remainder of their crew with no prior knowledge to what hour she'd awoken in. "Where is everyone?" She quietly padded towards them in her pyjamas, wiping the sleep from her dozy claret eyes. "I can't find Mikoto."

Tatara's expression faltered as he spun in his stool to open himself up to conversation with the child. "He's not here right now," he reassured her kindly. "But don't worry. He should be back-"

"I can't take it!" Interrupting Tatara's explanation, Saburōta shot to his feet in a desperate frenzy. "I'm going to help them! If I don't set things right with Onē-san, I'll never be able to live with myself!"

Tatara didn't seem concerned as he and Anna watched Saburōta storm towards the exit, and moments later, the man was staggering sheepishly backwards in search of their aid.

"Oi... but first, could you maybe tell me where exactly it is that they went?"

Anna tipped her drowsy expression towards the pair with curiosity brightening her once-dull gaze. "Onē-san is in trouble? That is why Mikoto is gone too."

Saburōta's face immediately flooded with guilt as Tatara waved his hands to comfort the astute child. "Ah, it's alright, really," he prattled worrisomely. "It's nothing to be concerned about. I'm sure they'll be back any minute." With his expression tightening, Tatara turned around to scold his panicking companion. "Don't worry Anna-chan like that. She and Nei-chan are close."

"I'm close to her too!" Saburōta refuted boldly. "And I wanna help, so tell me where she is, will ya?!"

Tatara put his arm on Anna's shoulder as she leaned into his lap and watched Saburōta circle the bar anxiously. He seemed to have come out of his stupor, but Tatara wasn't sure if he was grateful for that or not.

"Distressed..."

Tatara tipped his gaze towards the quiet child and groaned. "You're right, Anna-chan. He is." He turned his disappointed gaze towards his nervous friend with a heavy heart. "I just wish I knew how to help him. Nothing I say seems to calm him down." He sighed and watched Saburōta kick out his shoe at the bar only to freeze before dancing around, clutching his wounded toes. Then, he scowled at the rosewood, cursing it for its affront. "I've never seen him this wired."

From beneath silver bangs, Anna turned her bright eyes towards Tatara. "Izumo lets sad people drink from the shelves when they come here." She pointed to the liquor cabinet behind the bar with innocent features offering aid to his cause. "It might help."

Nearly choking himself with the impact of her innocent statement, Tatara stumbled over his words to try and refute her sound logic. "I really don't think Bandō-kun needs any of that. I'm sure he'll settle down eventually."

He flinched, his peripherals catching the sight of Neirah's phone screen illuminated on top of the bar. His breathing hitched for a moment as he took the phone up into his hand, and when he saw the caller identification, his expression dropped.

Anna and Tatara turned their weary gazes towards where Saburōta was impatiently tapping his injured foot on the ground with his mobile against his ear. With a meek groan, Tatara turned his faint smile back towards the young girl in his lap. "Well... maybe one drink from the shelf wouldn't hurt, right?"

Anna responded with the slow shaking of her head.

"Damn it, Onē-san! Pick up your phone!"

* * *

Scaffolding was tricky to navigate with both hands bound by a length of tungsten, but Neirah was having greater success than she anticipated. The added stress of dodging bullets was slightly unnecessary, but not entirely restricting as she wove between fixtures. The steel poles mounted throughout the underground lot added to her momentum when she gripped one and swung herself into her first target. With both heels striking him square in the chest, he collapsed with a winded shout.

When she released the support beam, she was quick to spiral, watching diligently that her bindings didn't get tangled to stunt her progression. Being sure she was in the clear, she landed and quickly flipped over her hands with an aerial half-rotation. Her landing left her facing the gunmen scattered throughout the garage, subject to her full, unstoppable charge.

Misaki was equally victorious while navigating the chaos around them, even from his skateboard. That surprised her because there were many little gaps between elevator platforms, some still mobile as reinforcements funnelled into the basement level. It was clear that the conveyers weren't supposed to be functioning, though. Even the concrete walls were shaking as the interior mechanics sputtered to life.

Taking inspiration from their hunter, Misaki snatched a vertical support beam with both hands at high speeds, jarring his progression. He swung horizontally, driving his board into the arms to steady his enemy's handgun. He recoiled slightly to the sound of the misdirected shot popping off, but he didn't let it stunt his advance. He kept the propulsion from his swing and landed crouched in the core of his reclaimed skateboard with his centre of gravity evenly braced as he glared towards his battle companion with great scrutiny. Even with her hands bound, she was keeping up with him and instead of feeling bitter about it, he started to feel a sense of pride.

For a moment of wonder, he paused his attack to consider the gentle heave of her chest. Her stamina was unparalleled, and her balance uncanny. He had never seen her so absorbed in her work before, and it was just as he'd suspected. If he were on the receiving end of her, he would be downright terrified.

When he finished sizing up her threat, his bemused glance finally landed on the sight of her angled ankles preparing to release the kinetic energy building in sturdy thighs. Like every other time he'd seen her, she was wearing her ebony, high-heeled boots, and the sight was mystifying. Ignoring his bitter feelings to confess that she was taller than him while she was wearing them, he pressed his curiosity instead. "How the heck can you do all that in those shoes?" he quizzed her dryly.

After she landed delicately on the belt next to him and carefully eyed where they had cleared most of the resistance in the basement, she slid her playful grin his way. She felt a complimented smile tighten her expression, and she rolled her ankle to judge the strain caused by the four inches of heel on her boots. "Funny, I was just wondering how you manage all this on that rattleboard of yours."

Misaki watched her through a vexed expression as she powered off like a runner taking her mark, and after a moment of consideration, his vacant expression cracked. "Wait- The hell'd you just call it!?"

After gauging enemy resistance, Neirah headed towards the inactive elevator shaft once used for bussing vehicles between storage levels. There were still members of their rival gang on the level above taking shots through the rather substantial gaps in the floor. It was making it hard for them to climb while trying to dodge the rain of pistol fire simultaneously.

There was an uncertain throbbing in her chest when she approached as quickly as she could to the sound of clamour above. When she plunged into the shadows of the alcove, she was careful to carry the speed in her illuminated feet as she powered off of the shaft walls from one side to the other. She knew that Misaki was close on her heels, so as soon as she saw their enemies gathering at the open mouth of the next level, panic flashed in her bright eyes. "Yata-san, wait!"

Misaki flinched from the base level to the sound of her holler echoing down the shaft, and when he heard their opponents open fire, his heart dropped. Despite her warning, he kicked up his board to tuck it under his arm and peeked into the elevator. "Tsukiyo!" He barked his alarm as the bullets started to ping off of the building's buried foundation, and it forced him to take cover behind the concrete slabs. "Damn it!" He peeked over his shoulder, relieved that her lifeless body hadn't struck the ground at the base of the elevator.

Neirah's confident leer focused on her approach, and she ignited what little chain she kept between her wrists. It wasn't much, so she didn't have near the range she typically had with her weapon, but it was all she needed to repel the accurate shots approaching. The aura surrounding her body made it difficult for them to focus on her swift movements, and before they could put a stop to her advance, she was powering forward. As she kicked off the back wall, she left a swell of crimson flame searing the partition beneath her as she dove into the commotion.

The first thing she did was tumble across the belt by their feet, and when her toes caught the edge of the platform, she launched towards the elevator railing. She took care to keep her binds from snagging as she swung and wrapped one hand over the other to switch direction like a bar gymnast. While she did, her flaming soles were powering into one of her opponents to knock them back down the shaft from whence she came.

Before his accomplice could get off another shot, she dropped from the piping to crouch by his feet and raised, snapping the butt of her palm up against the belly of his chin to disarm him. "Incoming." After announcing her intentions, she wrapped her chain around the back of her challenger's neck and jerked his brow into her raised knee before flipping him rearward over the edge.

Misaki yelped as men rained on either side of him, cringing to the sound of their percussive impact on the concrete. "Shit. She works fast." He slowly tipped his head back to the sound of melodic ringing and saw Neirah leaning over the platform with a bright smile on her face. If he wasn't her ally, he might have sickened to observe such a welcoming expression after her brutal assault.

She smiled down at him with a mischievous giggle, raising her long index finger towards the ceiling above. "Going up?"

As glad as he was that they seemed to transcend the awkwardness that remained from their first encounter, his cheeks still flooded with embarrassment to be playing catch up to a woman. "Y-yeah, I'm comin'," he grumbled meekly. His descent had been much swifter, but he didn't want to admit that it was because it was much easier to fall.

Neirah watched her companion flip between bars, and he eventually made his way up to the next level of the garage. A couple of times she worrisomely flinched when his foot slipped, or his fingers missed their post, but despite his less-elegant approach, he and his trusty skateboard had managed to join her on the next floor.

He was reluctant to accept her assistance in steadying his climb, but he wasn't going to abandon the effect that took up his second hand. In the end, he surrendered and let her take it from him so he could flop over the edge of the track. When he raised to his knees and observed the quiet mechanics above them, his expression darkened skeptically. "Is it just me? Or did it get quiet all of a sudden?"

Once he knelt steadily by her side, she raised her attention to what seemed to be the empty rafters above. "You know what that means, don't you?" she instigated quietly. "They decided that chasing after us was moot. They've probably gathered their forces on the ground level."

"Bastards must know Mikoto-san is on his way," Misaki growled fervently. "They probably all scattered."

"I don't think so." Neirah could feel the trepidation in her friend's curious leer while she considered their circumstance. "The people involved here tonight are working for someone else. If they go back empty-handed, they'll likely be putting themselves in harm's way." She turned her gaze to meet the abundance of gold in his. "They're just the middleman in this operation, so they don't want to make enemies with the Red Clan, or whoever's cutting their cheque. At this point, it's more likely they're hoping to ambush us after we tire ourselves out climbing to the surface."

Misaki's expression seemed enlightened as he recalled Saruhiko's warning, words that he didn't pay much attention to before. "Hey, maybe these guys are workin' for that Strain."

"Strain?" Neirah instigated. "What makes you say that? Did you run into someone on your way here?"

He urgently shook his head. "N-no, it was somethin' Fushimi said when I was out looking for you." Noticing the fond glint in her gaze, he shuffled away with a sheepish blush. "A-anyways, he said that Kusanagi-san thought these guys might have a Strain from the centre with them, er… somethin' like that."

Neirah's brow creased thoughtfully. "He must be powerful to have the mafia doing his dirty work for him." She sighed humbly and tipped her gaze towards the foundation remaining two floors above them. "Either way, we should take this opportunity to get into the clear so that King-sama doesn't have to worry about where we are when the two sides collide."

Perspiring for his anxiety, Misaki growled lightly and poked at his wristwatch. "Damn. Still no signal. I can't get a hold of Saruhiko at all."

"Does that make you nervous?" Her gaze was soft when she asked the question, but he still looked mortified when he turned his wild eyes on her. "You two are nearly inseparable," she instigated softly. "So, I was surprised when you showed up here on your own. Is everything okay?"

Unable to comprehend why he felt the need to divulge in the details of his friendship with her, he quickly turned away and snapped his teeth together to keep from involving the woman. "N-nothing's wrong," he asserted briskly. "Tracking this place down was still a team effort."

Neirah could imagine the situation clearly and assumed that Saruhiko's involvement had been passing on the relevant data long after Misaki had stormed the frontlines. "Mn, why do I get the feeling that you just ran ahead without thinking?"

"I-!" Before Misaki could contest her accuracy, Neirah was leaning forward and hushing him with her hand against his face. He was eager to shoo away the contact, but that was when he heard the sound of voices coming from below.

Neirah's gaze narrowed lethally on the sight of Kuriko while he hacked furious curses into his mobile. From what she could make out of it, their boss was getting ready to step in. "It looks like our friends downstairs are awake," she cautioned him gently. "Let's keep moving.

Misaki quickly squirmed away from her clutches and shimmied down the line. "D-duh, I was... gonna do that w-whether you told me to or not!"

She huffed an exasperated sigh and climbed to her feet as he started to pad lightly across the elevator. "Baby steps, I suppose."

The entire time he walked, Misaki kept checking his watch for a connection to the outside world. He remained miffed at his partner for staying behind when he charged into battle, but that didn't mean they weren't still a team. Knowing that Misaki's actions were maybe a little bit reckless, Saruhiko had done his best to help from behind. In truth, if it weren't for the information Saruhiko had provided him, it was likely that Misaki would never have guessed they'd been keeping Neirah in a place so publicly accessible. He may have missed the fight entirely, and that would have infuriated him.

He eventually lowered his forearm with a look of disdain, lingering on the events to transpire when they had rescued Anna from the Blue Clan. He'd been noticing that his friend was acting distant with most of their new allies, and it confused him. He was grateful that he and Saruhiko were still close, but he didn't understand why they couldn't be near the others too. He didn't want to feel _NextGen_. He wanted the inclusion that Saruhiko avoided.

He turned over his shoulder and watched Neirah keep careful track of their enemy's conversation below while hushing the clatter of her bindings. They seemed to be quiet enough to slip out of their host's comprehension. That allowed Misaki a moment to his thoughts as he watched her activate her inner assassin. The thing that probably confused him the most about the walls he watched Saruhiko build was that they didn't seem to apply to Neirah. He had personally been so busy avoiding the lethal woman that, at that point, he wasn't sure whether she was scaling the obstacles or Saruhiko was excluding her from the isolation. He supposed what made him nervous was that he didn't know what that meant for the three of them.

He felt pitiful to flinch when she turned her gaze to meet his, but not only had it come unexpectedly, it instantly filled with malice. It was the most terrifying and predatory sneer he'd ever seen. "Ah- s-sorry! I didn't-" He rattled out his defence nervously. Nearly dropping his skateboard from under his arm, he quickly fumbled with the clattering wheels before clutching it to his chest in an attempt to remain stealthy. "I d-didn't mean to-"

"Yata-san, get down!"

Instead of doing as commanded, Misaki turned around, which clumsily left him to dodge the dislodged beam jetting towards him. When he did, he stumbled over the edge of their perch and got his foot lodged between fixtures, leaving him stuck on one knee against the floor cursing acrimoniously. Neirah's frantic glare focused on the sight of another beam ringing through the joists as it collapsed. Before Misaki could panic, she darted forward with her chain hissing in her hands. By the time she braced herself in his defence, it was hot enough to slice through the beam and leave the halves to separate on either side of the pair.

Misaki's sights grew wide as he watched her pant her exhaustion, her fingers trembling around the length of chain she borrowed. "Awesome..."

Initially, she jerked her attention over her shoulder to encourage him, but that was when she noticed more lengths of rebar spearing through the air towards him. Misaki shied away from the contact as she leaned forward and braced both hands on his shoulders, using him like a vault to reach the side where danger approached. When he watched her knock the pieces away just shy of his capture, he started to hasten his escape.

"Shit! It looks like the whole damn place is fallin' apart now!" He released his ankle and scampered to his feet, observing the area swiftly. He hissed for the pain of the laceration left behind from rushing against the sharp metal edge, but he needed to be alert in their current predicament. "Do you think it's those bastards top-side?!"

Neirah's hair fanned around her lean torso in a dark wave as she spun to face the sight of a thick I-beam approaching her companion. The facility wasn't collapsing. It may have looked like that at first, but the debris was only falling in a way that put Misaki at risk. She parted her panting lips to call out to him, but before her warning had made it free, he had taken notice of the same.

It happened in the blink of an eye, so quickly that Neirah had almost missed the sight of Misaki leaping into the beam's approach in a burst of flame. His fingertips dusted off the surface of the steel, his expression hard with impatience, and moments later, the building pressure of his fury was releasing. The flames connected with the beam, and when they did, he thrust down on it with all his might. The end of the steel crashing into one of the garage's support pillars crumpled the elevators beneath and buried into the foundation below. Soon after, the bright lights around them flickered and then died.

She was just about to compliment his impressive save when he was repeating a similar effort twice more in the dark, his curses growing more aggravated every time. "What the fuck!? Why is shit only falling on me!?"

Neirah dashed towards him to watch his back as he skated down one of the angular beams lodged into the supporting concrete. "That's because this place isn't falling apart," she rushed out nervously. "Yata-san, this Strain you mentioned before. Are you sure you didn't meet up with him?"

_Huh?_ He turned his disgruntled expression her way to express his befuddlement. "Don't think so, why-?"

The two shrieked in unison as the crash of a lead pipe separated them, and when it swept into Misaki's torso, Neirah was sure of her theory. She dove over the lance as Misaki picked himself up, coughing with the force that left him winded. Quickly grabbing hold of his hand, she started to drag him down the aisle towards the second elevator shaft. "Because somebody is hunting you, that's why!" She'd spent many years being the predator, so she knew what it looked like when someone had their eyes locked on their prey. The crease in her brow deepened with concern. "But why you? I thought _I _was their target?"

Instead of being rightfully concerned for his wellbeing, Misaki was more conscientious of the heat her fingers gave off as they coiled around his wrist. "H-hey, what t-the hell!? You don't gotta hold my hand! I ain't scared of them!"

She looked over her shoulder towards the limping man struggling to keep up, and the look of desperation on her vulnerable features had his defence grinding to a halt. "What if we pretend I am?" Neirah dropped to her knees and pulled her headband from her pocket, using it to bind the open wound on his ankle. She looked up at him with worried eyes, desperate to find a way to convince him that he didn't need to posture for her sake. "Would you stay close?"

His cheeks flooded with a deep crimson pigment as she climbed to her feet. "W-well, I..."

Noticing that the ruckus had ceased, Neirah drew closer to her ally. Despite Misaki's apparent discomfort with the situation, she used the nearness as an opportunity to survey the area. The infrastructure of the building was chaotic, and one of the main support shafts was left nearly demolished. She could hear the panic of Yasuda and Kuriko below, which told her that there was a chance they weren't anticipating to get caught up in the situation.

Realizing that the rest of the room had gone eerily silent, she stepped closer to Misaki and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to prevent an easy separation. Her alert gaze continued to scan the area, and her thoughts travelled with it. It was clear to her that whatever was attacking was after her friend, and may have refused to bring harm to her. "Don't move," she commanded in a dull whisper.

From where he became tangled against her embrace, Misaki felt like his face was going to melt because every time she heaved, it drew her weighty chest closer to his flushed expression. He knew they were in a precarious situation, but of all the life-or-death circumstances he could have found himself in, he was having a hard time believing that her ensnarement was responsible for keeping them safe.

"Whatever's out there doesn't want to be seen," she whispered nervously. "They're incredibly fast and strong." Shrilly, her sharp inhale choked her as she caught the sight of a shadow shifting across the room, and her instinct drew Misaki flush against her chest. "I found you..."

Misaki was moments from struggling out of her grip with a furious shout, but just as he jerked his head away from her heartbeat with a deep gasp, she fisted his shirt and dragged him to the side. Without an ounce of delicacy, she thrust him forward, simultaneously passing him and igniting her body brightly. "Yata-san! Climb!"

He stumbled a bit on the uneven terrain, but he was quick to regain his footing and snap his gaze over his shoulder with a look of resentful inquiry. "What?! And leave you down here when this place's gonna fall apart any minute now!?" He recoiled to the sight of debris as it began to approach him again, irritably watching as Neirah cleared it.

"Go!" Reaching her lumbar just beneath the denim of her jeans, she slipped her golden throwing knife from her waistline and narrowed her burning gaze on the shifting of the shadows. When she was confident that she'd seen her target flinch, she pitched the flaming dart into the movement. Even if she delighted in the triumph of her weapon burying into flesh, the light it carried still hadn't illuminated enough to identify him. Before she could attempt to make her aura swell, he'd torn the knife away from his skin to toss it aside.

Misaki didn't understand what was happening, and it was infuriating him. He quickly jerked his attention towards the two levels above and then turned to face her with a bashful scowl. After observing long enough for his fist to tighten at his side, he powered off the platform in retreat.

Neirah chased the shadow as quickly as she could, burning brightly in hopes that she could discover the identity of their unexpected guest. But no matter how fast she travelled, her target was faster. She was careful to remain between the assault and Misaki's escape to prevent any further interference. All she had to do was ward off the spectre until her companion was safely above ground. Once she knew that, she could let their enemy give chase. Doing so would lead him right into their line of vision and their king.

She prayed that she had bought Misaki enough time to rendezvous with their reinforcements because she was running out of fuel for her flames. Soon, her aura burned out entirely and left her alone in the cold dark, barely supported on shaky legs. She tried not to panic because she knew that whatever was out there had no intention of harming her. It had made that clear. However, that didn't stop her body from trembling subtly with vulnerable fear.

"Coward!" she hollered callously through her fatigue. She waited a moment, letting her voice echo around the disturbed rock, brittle bits scattering under tension. She hoped that she wasn't alone, that her enemy hadn't slipped away after all she'd done to prevent it. "If you think you frighten me, you don't. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you want with my friend!"

Neirah's blood instantly froze when she felt the heat of a shadow looming behind her. Their breathing felt laboured due to the force they'd expelled tearing the building down around them. He was tall, and the torso lining her back was hard. If she didn't know any better, she might have compared the man behind her to her king's stature, but if Mikoto were there, the room wouldn't be black, and she wouldn't be facing the threat of the presence behind her.

Just as she was about to turn, she felt the hard palm of her enemy on her crown, and the force was enough to cause her to slump.

"Who says he's the one I want?"

The whisper was sinister and spoken way too close to her ear for comfort. While she steeled her nerves and prepared her counter-assault, the war-cries that she intended to emit seemed to come from above instead. With a gaze wide and blinded by the brilliant glow of her clansman, Misaki dropped down from the second floor onto the third with both hands locked solidly around a burning length of pipe. "Get your hands off of her!"

Neirah ducked out of the way, dropping to the floor on her stomach before turning to observe where the unidentified Strain reached out and caught the hot pipe Misaki assaulted him with. She could hear the sizzle of contact and smell the burning of the Strain's flesh, but the man before them didn't seem bothered as he challenged Misaki's force. Beneath Misaki's fierce glow, she could make out the sight before them disguised beneath a black hoodie, and from what illuminated, he hadn't taken his other hand out of the pocket in the front of it.

Misaki was livid. Not only did his target still have one hand in his pocket, but the Strain had dared to turn and face HOMRA's hunter like the threat in front of his face was null. "Cocky bastard," he snarled bitterly. "You'd better take us seriously! I'm not leavin' until our hunter's back where she belongs!"

He released his weapon with one hand to make a fist and ignite it with his aura. Unfortunately, just before he could land his strike, the hooded man jerked on the pipe and dismissed the unbalanced Misaki to the side. Misaki grunted the exasperation of his tumble before straightening his feet beneath him. He tried to regain his composure and lurch back on the offensive, but that was when he felt a snap as his injured ankle gave way.

When Misaki's pained shouts cut through the air, the Strain retracted the pipe and shouldered it with a satisfied smile. He turned to watch the fading light creep across Neirah's face before letting his conceited chuckle rumble in the dusky garage. "Let's see how quick you can run... Little Red."

Neirah was so shocked by the sound of the sadistic drawl to emit the words that she couldn't even focus on him destroying the next support beam with the pipe he'd apprehended. Nor could she comprehend that he'd done so with blood dripping from his left fingers while his right remained seared by Misaki's attack. Instead, she fell into memories of the last time concrete crumbled from the ceiling above her and the previous man to call her _Little Red_. "G-Goya-san...?"

Misaki growled bitterly and slammed his hand down between her shoulders, fisting her jacket as he sprinted by and illuminated their path. "That cocky son-of-a-bitch! Who the hell does he think he is!? Makin' a damn fool of me-!"

Neirah staggered forward, her head still reeling as she chased after her injured companion with her heart in her throat. There was no way. She watched Eiko die right in front of her and with her own eyes. Just because he didn't feel pain didn't mean that his heart couldn't stop beating. She could hear the devastated cries of the conscious men on the ground level, pelted by debris. Unlike the red clansmen preparing to climb out of the basement levels of the garage, the mortals below didn't have a prayer defending themselves from what was to come.

After climbing the elevator shaft the entire way, Neirah and Misaki were heaving their exhaustion in preparation to sigh their relief. When they turned their gazes on the sight of far too many armed men eyeing the tremoring earth they'd crawled out of, their anxious stir caused Misaki to flinch. "C-crap! N-not good!"

"There they are!"

Just as weapons were racking in preparation to fire, a heatwave of mass proportions was slicing between the confronting parties to separate them and causing the gang members to recoil to the sight of red company arriving.

Izumo announced their entry with the casual ringing of his lighter, and he kept his laidback smile fixed on the sight of their trembling foes. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He dusted one set of knuckles against his hip and cocked a brow expectantly. "We're all adults here. I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding without things turning ugly."

A long silence crossed between parties before one mafia member took a stand and honed his pistol on the unnerving sight of the Red Monster. Before anyone could stop him, he was pulling the trigger with a terrified yelp.

Mikoto didn't flinch as the bullet approached because before it could connect, it had liquified and dripped to the ground in front of his shoe. He grunted briskly and closed his eyes, listening to the clamour of their panic-stricken adversaries. "Too bad," Mikoto muttered quietly.

Izumo hummed a musical sigh and lit himself a cigarette with the lighter he'd just flipped open a moment prior. "Hm, wrong answer."

The brilliance of their king's flames reflected in the cold steel and Izumo's sheer violet shades as he remained tranquil, focussed on nursing his cigarette to life with steady breaths. It never took their king long to take care of mortal resistance when it posed a threat, and unfortunately, no matter how angry it was going to make the Gold King, some things couldn't be helped. By the time he had snapped his lighter shut, the few able-bodied survivors were fleeing to the sights of their razed allies.

Misaki watched through sparkling eyes as their resistance writhed in pain. When Mikoto casually sauntered towards the elevator shaft and offered the boy his hand, he was replacing his cocky grin. "As expected of Mikoto-san!" He accepted the aid and climbed to his feet. "That was awesome!"

"You okay, kid?" Mikoto rumbled calmly. The king tilted his gaze to the sight of Misaki bleeding through Neirah's headband. "Looks like a pretty nasty gash."

"Ah, this? No way, this's nothin'! You should see the other guys." After dusting himself off, he turned to his arrogant partner with a disgruntled snort. "What the hell took you guys so long anyway?"

"Told ya," Izumo crooned impishly.

_Tsk_. After his complete dismissal of the command, Saruhiko turned his casual observation toward where Yō was helping Neirah to her feet. It wasn't long after the rumbling had stopped beneath their feet that Yō's devastated holler was starting up the tremors again.

"_Sonofa_\- Who hit you!?" Yō took Neirah's face between his hands with a distressed look of disapproval on his face, and he turned to face his king for justification. "Mikoto-san! I said it, didn't I!? One scratch! You heard me say that, right?!" He quickly dashed behind Neirah and squeezed her cheeks between the flat of his palms to display her slightly swollen pout to their party. "We can hurt them now?"

"Chitose-kun, I'm fine," Neirah reassured him brightly.

"Not fine!" he roared. "There's blood! I can clearly see blood."

"Knock it off," Masaomi growled. "She said she was fine."

"Here! Let me kiss it better-" Yō was the one who was in seething agony by the time his cranium received a strike each from Masaomi and Neirah in perfect harmony.

"Take it easy, Chitose," Izumo casually drawled. "It looks like I was right. The kids took care of it on their own. Though I gotta say, I don't think Kokujōji-san's gonna be too happy about it." He smiled to the sight of Misaki puffing his chest proudly only to get struck by Saruhiko moments after. "That's our Yatagarasu for ya."

Interrupting his theory, Neirah growled lightly and poked a polished nail into the centre of Izumo's chest, her chains rattling like she'd stepped off the set of another Christmas Carol. "How is it that I _always_ end up being the _bait_?"

A hesitantly muffled chuckle sounded around Izumo's cigarette as he rubbed at his assaulted chest. "Ah, you're still on about that?"

She gave him another impatient jab, rattling the chains a second time. "Book me the next week off and take me back to my roommate," she demanded unwaveringly. "My feet are killing me."

Misaki stepped past the melted caution tape he'd defied earlier that night and interrupted her snarkily. "It's those stupid shoes."

"Humor me," Neirah growled impatiently to refute his retort. "Who stands with the ankle injury?"

"You're just angry that they make her taller than you," Saruhiko broadcasted.

"Like hell I am!" Misaki barked in bashful outrage.

Rikio observed the woman curiously, never really stopping to consider it before. "Actually, why _do_ you wear those shoes all the time? Yata-san's right. They can't be comfortable."

Neirah turned her innocent observation over her shoulder like she was oblivious, peeking down at her upturned heel before returning her focus towards her friend. "Oh, these? Chitose-kun says they make my butt look cute."

Before Izumo's impatient scowl could address the man, Yō was already cringing to the feeling of Masaomi's fingers burning against his scalp.

"Okay, I admit it!" Yō rushed. "That wasn't a very brotherly thing to say."

"You're the worst," Misaki growled under his breath.

"Oi! How'd this turn on me!? Did you all forget that someone hit our girl!?"

Neirah raised her crossed arms in front of her and then whisked them across her body until they were spread wide at her front. "Enough bickering! If I don't get some aspirin and roommate snuggles in the next forty-six minutes, somebody's getting maimed."

Yō groaned nervously as his posture slackened. "Why are you looking at me when you say that?"

Mikoto rumbled a low chuckle as he approached and snagged the tungsten rings between his hands. "That sounded like an order." The links became malleable beneath the intense heat of his grip, and within seconds he was separating them. He reached to his lips and withdrew his cigarette to tap the ashes from the end of it. "I wouldn't test her if I were you."

_H-huh?_ Misaki whimpered nervously. "I-is Mikoto-san... I-is he afraid of Ts-sukiyo?!"

"Yeah, right," Saruhiko scolded him quietly. "What'd you hit your head down there or something?"

Misaki turned his fury on his detached partner and kicked up a fuss. "Yeah, no thanks to my trusty _partner_," he hissed frigidly. "Nice tip about the Strain. Coulda warned me he was batshit crazy! He almost killed me!"

Izumo's attention perked alertly to the sound of Misaki's turmoil, but his low murmur was too dull to interrupt the boy. "The Strain? So, he was here." His breathing hitched when he looked down at his chest to the sight of Neirah, fisting his shirt for stability. Not every one of her clanmates had seen her weakness, and he could tell by the weight of her trembling grip that she was ready to drop.

Her expression was mild as she sucked lightly on the swell of her lip, and only well-trained eyes could catch the worry rising within her. "Kusanagi-san, we have to talk..."

He was apprehensive as he raised his gaze to where Rikio was getting involved in the spat between Misaki and Saruhiko, and his words were quiet as they responded to her concern. "Yeah... Alright, let's go."

* * *

**_July 10th, 2009 3:46 am_**

Two sets of eyes locked on the sight of a blubbering Saburōta too intoxicated to form coherent sentences anymore. What began as an innocent theory to comfort the man, turned into the exact opposite of what good intentions strived to achieve. With his arms folded around the child, Tatara watched the scene unfold from behind where Anna sat in his lap. Their friend was so distraught that he couldn't lift his head from the wood, and even though Tatara's smile remained, he knew there would be hell to pay when Izumo returned.

"It didn't work," Anna murmured beneath the commotion. "He's still distressed."

"Ah, it's true," Tatara murmured meekly. "I think we maybe should have stopped him at one." He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders as Anna quietly nodded her head, and he couldn't help but divert his gaze to the side.

When he had, he noticed that Neirah's phone illuminated again. He quickly checked where Saburōta hadn't raised his head, not entirely sure why, though. He didn't believe that their companion was capable of dialling her number in his current state. Realizing that the hour was lingering just between way-too-late and way-too-early, he focused on the screen to see who was calling.

His stomach rolled to the sight of the number flashing, and he had recognized the name as Neirah's father. She hadn't programmed him into her contact list as such. A dry swallow ached in his throat as he considered the call and how drunk he must have been to try and contact her at such an hour. It reminded him that outside of their comfortable lives, a different world yearned for inclusion. He supposed what worried him was the fear that one day, they might get their wish. That would mean one of two things. Either their fates might sync up with the family of the gentle Strain in his lap, or HOMRA would lose their hunter forever.

Anna had nearly toppled out of Tatara's lap when the man lurched to life at the sight of Saburōta diving across the bar in an attempt to answer the phone that didn't belong to him.

"Onē-san! Are you there!?"

Tatara flailed in his best attempt to prevent his friend from blundering while also remaining conscious of the immovable fixture bouncing from one side to the other in his lap like a cat finding comfort in their master's lap. It didn't matter how much he squirmed. She was rooted.

"Bandō-kun don't!" he scolded nervously. "That's Nei-chan's phone! Why would she call her own phone?!"

Luckily, the man's double vision kept him from figuring out how to answer the call, and it eventually went to voicemail in his hand. "Gone! She's gawn and is all my fault!"

Tatara let a gentle growl rattle in the back of his throat as he tucked Neirah's phone safely out of their drunken companion's reach. "She's not gone," he asserted sternly. "She's probably on her way back as we speak."

"You've been saying that for an hour," Anna evenly publicized.

His meek retort was growing uncertain as he diverted his attention to the bleak child in his lap. "Not you too..." Flinching to the sight of her distracted attention snapping towards the door, he raised his gaze to the reassuring sight of their king stepping foot into the bar with his pride in tow. "King! You guys made it back! See!? I told you, Anna-chan!"

Immediately dropping from Tatara's lap, Anna scampered across the floor towards their mighty leader. "Mikoto."

Izumo chuckled lightly to the sound of the child dashing past them to crash into the front of their king. "You sound surprised," he teased. "I told you the kids would have things under control." When his once spirited expression iced over, his brow knotted to the sight of Saburōta scrambling among the bottles spread on the bar top, and he followed the man's staggering actions as he climbed to his feet. "Totsuka... What's all this?"

Tatara laughed sheepishly and gave his jaw a guilty scratch with his index finger as it displayed a less-than-innocent smile. "Uh, about that-"

"Onē-san!?" Saburōta scanned the dispersing crowd desperately in search of his missing friend. "She- She's back too, right?! You found her?!"

Rikio was laughing lightly to the teasing he offered their exhausted lioness as she travelled against his shoulders. When Saburōta caught the sight of the distracted woman's laughter, he couldn't contain his relieved tears.

Rikio shuddered when Saburōta fell against his front. In his stupor, he reached up to Rikio's payload, clawing at his sweater like a cat trying to reach the contents of a table through the tablecloth. "What the heck-? Bandō, are you drunk?!" From the nearness, he certainly smelled like he was.

"Give her here!" If it weren't for his obvious distress, Rikio might have considered that his friend was making a threat. "Tsukiyooo!"

Neirah groaned softly and patted Rikio's chest to encourage him to set her on her feet. "It's okay, Kamamoto-kun. I think I've got enough left in me to handle this."

He shrugged and crouched low enough that Neirah could touch the floor, hoping that Saburōta didn't barrel her over in his stupor.

And he came close. The moment Neirah straightened and offered the man her bright smile, he was throwing himself against her gratefully. Due to their substantial difference in height, it was difficult for her to brace herself against his impact, but she did her best to comfort him as he wrapped his arms around her for physical and emotional stability. It sounded like he was trying to apologize for what he felt was his fault, but she couldn't make it out between the broken sobs and delusions. Her voice was a feeble murmur against his shoulder, and her expression humbled with fondness as she drew comfort from his strong arms wrapped around her tired body. "Bandō, baby, am I glad to see you..."

Tatara yelped in agony as he was stricken squarely on the head by Izumo's impatient fist. "A-ah! I know! I'm sorry."

"Idiot! What were you thinking, letting a minor into the liquor!?" Just for good measure, he struck him again. "If this gets reported, I could lose my licence!"

"Relax," Mikoto rumbled dryly. "Nobody's gonna report anything."

"That's not the point."

"Izumo." From where she was clinging to Mikoto's leg, Anna turned to face the enraged bar owner and took responsibility for her actions with her tiny hands fisted in her pyjamas. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head, causing their gathering to flinch skeptically in her midst. "It was my idea."

Izumo almost tripped over his feet to the sound of her sheepish apology. "Yours?" He moaned bleakly to the sight of her nodding her head with shame. He wanted to carry on with his rant, accusing Tatara of making Anna take the blame, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt the sweet child's feelings if she was, in fact, guilty. Surrendering to the wave of relief lightening the hearts of his company, he yielded the need to chastise Tatara's folly. "Ah, Mikoto's probably right. It's late, and we closed up shop before we took off so..."

He sighed and tilted his gaze to where Neirah was gently comforting her distressed companion. Nearby, Rikio was gruelling Misaki for the details of their adventure, but even through his amazement, Izumo had spied a worried crease in his brow. It was the way of things. No matter which one of them was in trouble, the rest were left to worry until they were back home where they belonged. So, with their roster all in attendance and a new mystery unfolding, he dismissed his anger and just let their family relieve in the fact that everyone came home safely that night.

"Alright, Totsuka. You're off the hook this time." He turned to face the bar and gently rearranged the bottles on the polished rosewood surface. "I actually think I could use a drink myself." Ignoring Tatara's uneasy sigh, he addressed their weary king by offering a bottle towards him. "Looks like Bandō got into the good stuff. Care to join me in polishing off what's left?"

A low snigger filled Mikoto's chest to the sight of Saburōta switching targets, receiving a beating from a flushed and frustrated Misaki when he attempted to express his thanks. The humbled king closed his eyes and diverted his smug grin towards the business side of the bar next to a delighted Tatara. "Yeah. It's been one of those days."


	9. Kiss

**Kiss**

* * *

_**July 20th, 2009 5:25 am**_

As Neirah fell out of sleep, she began to comprehend the pulse of her aching brow as if it knotted for a long time. It left behind hints of an impending migraine, and that made her groan. There was unrest in her breathing, but she didn't recall jolting from sleep. She reminisced her deep slumber and took note that she was sure she had been sleeping deeply enough to dream, but she couldn't remember what about. Whatever she had seen, it had her heavy bangs clinging to her perspiring brow as she slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze remained tapered when it met with the sight of navy cotton where her plain white sheets should have been, and it took her a moment to figure out what was happening around her. She was warm, the weight of her comforter wrapped protectively around her shoulders. She sighed softly and wriggled in the centre of her bed, realizing that the covers she thought were warming her bunched down around her toes.

With a deep sigh, she tipped her brow forward another inch, feeling the steady beat of her roommate's heart against her face as she stared narrowly at his shirt. "Tat-chan." After feeling him fidget like he'd been waiting a long time for the opportunity to do so without waking her, she smiled faintly and closed her eyes. "I was dreaming again, wasn't I?"

From where his lips were touching her hairline, he turned them up into a relaxed smile. "You were fussing quite a lot this time." Lazy fingers stroked the mass of tangled auburn waves from around her shoulders so that the rush of early morning air might help cool her skin before the sun warmed their apartment. The nights were becoming hotter, and it was making it more uncomfortable when she needed his support, but he had no intention of shying away from his duty. "Was it another nightmare?"

Her smile disappeared against his shirt as she nuzzled into the centre of his chest. "I honestly don't remember."

Despite his humble inquiry, he closed his eyes like he expected that they would return to sleep the way they were. "Do you want me to go back to my room?"

As anticipated, she gently rolled her brow against his chest in denial and allowed her hands to snake between them. She had her suspicions that maybe she hadn't been dreaming at all before his gentle embrace woke her. The thought crossed her mind that maybe, he was starting to feel inadequate again, and his kind concern was only for show. Suspecting her considerate roommate of something so devious had a blushing smile stealing her features against him. "This is fine," she whispered delicately. "Maybe having you here is what's keeping the bad dreams away."

Guilt caused his cheeks to darken sheepishly as he narrowly parted his lashes to observe her peaceful expression. It was hot, but something about the nearly unbearable temperatures was what comforted him the most. It was something that they shared, and what Tatara would never admit outside those quiet moments was that her unspoken understanding and patience gave him strength when he thought he'd reached his limit. It was a strange kind of love, but nothing said it couldn't be beautiful.

* * *

He was gone before Misaki had raised from his bed, and something about that was terrifying. Shuffling groggily across his apartment floor, Misaki climbed the rungs of his roommate's ladder to peek the ruffled sheets lying empty in the bunk above. He poked the soft mess and peeled the blankets away like there may have been a chance that his friend was still under them, but that was a result of his sleep-addled instincts begging to be wrong. Unfortunately, he already knew that he was alone in their home. His grim expression remained concealed from the nose down as the furrow deepened in his brow. Of all days for Saruhiko to leave before him, it had to be that one.

He opened the front door to a thin slit and peeked out the crack, assuring himself that no one was on the other side. Once Misaki had ascertained that he was truly alone, he reached out and grasped at the space next to the door like he anticipated something to be there.

His expression softened as he turned to observe the void where his skateboard should have been. The day he had shown up to rescue HOMRA's hunter, he'd ended up losing the accessory in the commotion. It remained buried in the parking garage that was just recently getting its promised makeover. With a soft groan, he let himself out of his apartment, closing the door behind him with a dull click. Then, a moment later, he popped his head back around the entrance to twist the lock before closing it again.

He'd forgotten how much of a pain walking was. It didn't bother him that he must have looked like a criminal with the way he shuffled through the city, continually looking over his shoulder. He would rather that than to find himself ambushed. Misaki knew what awaited him that afternoon, so he had every intention of avoiding the bar, but he was hoping to convince Saruhiko to keep him company while he was incognito. Luckily, it was still way too early for everyone to be floating around Izumo's establishment, so he hoped he could make the stop quick and get out before anyone managed to interfere.

He was still cautious as he approached the quiet building, tearing his gaze from one side to the other to inspect the premises. Narrowing his sights, he let a suspicious growl rattle within his chest as he slunk forward. It was very quiet, suspiciously quiet.

Turning his back on the door, he kept his gaze locked on the hushed street as he slowly dipped inside bar HOMRA on a tight agenda. Find Saruhiko and get out before all hell broke loose and he was-

Misaki's mortified howl was shrill when he felt two sets of hands fist in the material of his t-shirt to drag him into the building. He had been too late. With a captor on either side of him, he had to fight for freedom with all his might. "No! Let me go!" He sank his fingers like claws into the front doorframe, too terrified to open his eyes and face his fate. "I'm not ready!"

Saruhiko's devious snicker was malicious as he released his friend with one hand to pry Misaki's fingers off of the wood frame. "Don't worry," he droned sadistically. "It'll all be over soon."

Misaki finally opened his eyes and scowled back at his friend with a furious blush in his cheeks. "Saruhiko, you traitor!" he barked lividly. "I'll remember this in November!"

Once Saruhiko had picked his fingers off the frame, Misaki had been helpless to scramble away from Rikio's firm chokehold, and moments later, he was thumping onto his back against the floor. After Misaki reclaimed the breath that had rushed out of his lungs, he put up a good fight, but soon, he felt the pressure of Rikio's knee against one shoulder, his palm forcing Misaki's head back as he struggled.

Saruhiko hadn't helped, and the way he'd twisted his friend's arm to slam it against the ground had been a little excessive. "If you struggle, it's only gonna make things worse."

A little bit of Saruhiko's venom seemed to corrupt Rikio's generally forgiving demeanour because his low, rumbling laugh came off equally as foreboding. "I don't think I've seen anyone kick back this much over it."

"Damn it, Rikio! Let. me. GO!" Misaki kicked out his scuffling legs, ripping his head out from under Rikio's palm so he could chomp his teeth down on the man's thick fingers.

"Oi! Knock that off!" Rikio barked in agony as he shook his injured paw. "That really hurt, Yata-san!" Another yelp was quick to follow as Misaki snarled his frustration, tangling his flailing legs around the kerfuffle until he could beat his friend in the ribs.

Reclaiming his arm from beneath Rikio's weight, Misaki took a deep breath and prepared to attack Saruhiko next, promising himself to be ruthless in seeking his revenge. Unfortunately, before he could propose the challenge, the time had come. The pigment in his face deepened when he felt the deceptively delicate touch of HOMRA's hunter on his raised knee, tracing his bare skin until she met the low-hanging material of his shorts just past the joint.

"You're braver than you look," she purred with sultry malice. She drew her painted lips together, the deep crimson shade of her lipstick popping around her bright smile. "You knew what was coming, and yet here you are, walking right into our trap."

Misaki had been staggered by her intensity long enough for Rikio to get a hold of his other side and increase the pressure steadying him on his back against the ground. The urgency of his situation had snapped him into reality. "No... please don't-" He could feel the frustrated tears burning the backs of his eyes as his struggle continued. "Saru- Saru, please let me go!"

"You're only making it worse for yourself, _Virgin-kun_." Saruhiko's lips twisted into an elated smirk. "Frankly, it's embarrassing."

Misaki tossed his head back with a desperate wail. "Kusanagi-san, make her stop!"

From where he'd been preparing his bar for the day's regular business, Izumo started to laugh at the spectacle. "Sorry, Yata. You know how it is," he dismissed undauntedly. "You didn't seem to have any objections when the rest of us went through the same thing."

Tatara giggled lightly from where he sat at the bar with a bright smile locked on his friendly features. Misaki had always been the first one to jeer his fellow companions who met the same initiation. "Nei-chan's been doing this since Bandō-kun joined. There's no stopping tradition."

"That's sad," Yō teased impishly. "But hey, if Yata doesn't want his-"

"You got yours last month," Masaomi growled. "You're done for another year."

Yō could immediately feel the pain of Misaki's struggle to keep his composure but for entirely different reasons. "So, this is how I go out, huh?"

"Idiot. Don't be so dramatic..."

Wishing he could get better traction with his shoes against the polished floors of the bar, Misaki tried to kick back and scamper away from Neirah's intimacy. "Ts-Tsukiyo-san, c-come on! Y-you can't do t-this-"

Neirah's expression grew sardonic. "Awe, sweetie, you're back to stuttering with me again." She laid her finger against her target's nose and leaned over his body. Bringing her face close to his, she pouted theatrically and adjusted her tone like she was talking to something she pitied. "I thought we were past this."

As the bar filled with entertained sniggers, Anna's dull voice announced her concern for the rattled body trembling on the floor. "Misaki's red is deeper than Mikoto's."

_Hm?_ Mikoto turned over his shoulder vacantly and observed the struggle that morning. It didn't take a Strain to see how deeply flustered the boy had become under pressure "S' that so?"

Anna nodded softly and wrapped her lips back around the straw of her strawberry shake.

"Come on, Lion-chan," Tatara sang spiritedly. "Stop teasing the poor guy."

Neirah hummed lightly, her untamed waves falling to either side of Misaki's terrified expression as he tried to sink deeper into the floor in search of escape. "You're right. I'm sorry, Yata-san," she murmured tenderly. "But tradition is tradition."

Misaki's hazel gaze trembled as she grew nearer, and he thought his chest was going to burst for the adrenaline his resistance had stored. He held his breath, his entire body steeling the moment she closed her eyes and pressed her soft lips to the tip of his nose.

Her tone was light, and her smile kind as she backed away from the released man leaving a red lipstick print on his face beneath her affections. "Happy birthday, Yata-san."

To the sound of the entire room raising a ruckus in celebration, Misaki reclaimed the numb limbs his friends had released and scrambled across the floor as far away from the kneeling woman as possible. He hastily scrubbed the crimson taint off the bridge of his nose with his sleeve, bracing one hand on the back of a chair. His other hand fell to clasp his shirt tightly against his heaving chest as he sweated in his struggle to catch his breath. "A-ah-h... I s-saw it... M-my life. It just f-flashed before my e-eyes." He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheeks aggressively to try and banish the colour that had flooded them for his utter humiliation. "Ts-Tsukiyo's the w-worst!"

The room filled with delighted laughter as Rikio helped Neirah to her feet with a bright smile. "Did you see the look on his face? That was even better than Bandō last year."

"Yeah," Saburōta barked out dryly. "'Cept Yata at least had a heads up." There were traces of bitter resentment on his face as he leaned into the finger he used to direct their attention towards himself. "I was her guinea pig!"

Yō climbed from his seat, outraged by what he had just witnessed. "Oi! That was really close to his lips!" he barked enraged. "How come he got so lucky?!"

Adjusting his demeanour, Saburōta spun in his stool with a wicked grin displayed as he poked his blushing cheek near to the corner of his mouth. "I don't know. I still think mine was the closest." It was no wonder he'd gotten the wrong idea from her that day.

Kōsuke rubbed the side of his neck sheepishly in reminiscence of her lips, touching the area a couple of months prior. "That _was_ pretty close."

"Boys, it's not a contest," Neirah broadcasted. And to be fair, she was initially going for a completely innocent peck on the cheek with Saburōta until he turned into the unexpected contact. She turned her wink over her shoulder to face Yō, laying one long finger against her lips like she was telling him to keep a secret. "Besides, you know nobody's going to get _that_ lucky with Onii-chan around."

Yō bowed his head, shaking his fist as he filled with purpose. "Alright, Bandō. Our first order of business is to off Kusanagi-san."

From where Masaomi perspired next to him, his doubtful grimace scoffed. "Yeah, good luck with that..."

Saburōta flinched on the other side of Yō, spitting out his drink all over the bar. "S-say what!?" He yelped in alarm when Neirah floated over to his side and dropped her arms around his neck from behind. His head fell forward until it nearly struck the counter in front of him, and he was almost grateful that it hid his bashful features.

"Chitose, stop corrupting my precious Wolf-kun," she reprimanded sternly. "You're teaching him all your strange habits."

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" Yō snapped defiantly. "You and I get along."

Neirah whined softly, a vacant Saburōta rocking side to side as she wriggled against his shoulders from where she stood behind his seat. "We get along better when there's only one of you," she assured him firmly. She turned her gentle smile towards where Saburōta was peeking at her over the frames of his large sunglasses. "Don't pick up any more of Chitose-kun's habits, okay?" Her beam brightened as he obediently nodded his head.

Like nothing had happened, Neirah whirled from the conversation and laid both hands on her hips. "And for the record, Kamamoto-kun's kiss was the closest."

Rikio scratched the side of his face sheepishly as the bar started to gripe their dismay, and they caught the rare sight of the burly man blushing. "Ah ha... It was pretty close, wasn't it?"

Misaki, who had finally caught his breath, groaned his dismay and dragged his feet across the bar towards its tender. He was still coloured darkly with hues of crimson, but he seemed to stop shaking now that the worst was over. "Sweet sixteen, my ass."

Izumo lumbered down the line and met the troubled boy with an understanding smile on his face. "Curious?"

Misaki thumped his head against the bar, hoping the cool surface would help to settle his nerves and remove the permanent blush from his cheeks. "Not really..."

Continuing to show his support for his best friend, Saruhiko took the seat next to Misaki and persisted. "Actually, I am."

Rolling his head to one side, Misaki displayed one unamused eye towards his instigating companion. "I hate you right now."

"Yeah, I can feel it."

Izumo began when the remainder of the bar had settled to eavesdrop on the conversation. The story seemed to change with every retelling. "Well, now, back when our hunter first joined us, she was rumoured to be cursed."

Misaki's head shot up from the bar, and his expression paled in disbelief. "C-cursed?! The hell do you mean by that!?"

"Everything she touched fell to misfortune," Tatara sang from nearby. Being eager to start a tradition within their ranks, he had been guilty of at least half of the nonsense that was spouted from kiss to kiss. "When we found her, she wouldn't even shake Kusanagi-san's hand."

Izumo reclaimed Misaki's frantic attention by holding up one of his fingers. "But it turns out that it works the exact opposite for anyone with Mikoto's aura. Ever since she started this, we've never lost a fight."

Misaki's brow immediately knotted with bemusement. "W-wait... Does Mikoto-san... get one on his birthday too?" His expression dropped as Mikoto let a faint grin twist his lips around his cigarette to the sound of his detached snort. The realization caused Misaki to squeak feebly.

Delighting in the fond amusement filling the hall, Tatara continued. "Legend has it that just one kiss every year makes you stronger."

With glowing eyes, Misaki's expression filled with amazement as he looked down into his upturned palms, feeling energized by the contact he experienced on the floor. "W-whoa... I think I can feel it."

_Tsk_. Saruhiko rolled his eyes and rested one elbow on the bar to support his exhausted expression. A year's worth of tradition was hardly a legend. "Give me a break..." He had a hard time deciding whether he was angry or grateful that his best friend was clueless. At least with their assistance, he shouldn't have to hear about it again until next year, so he supposed he was a larger part grateful. He certainly wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

Neirah laughed brightly from where she finished cleaning off her ceremonial lipstick and took the eager Anna into her lap on the couch. "When Anna's old enough, she'll probably take over." She moaned softly and nuzzled into the top of the Strain's fair head of hair. "Mn, but she's so much more lady-like than I am. She's going to make all the boys Chitose-crazy."

Masaomi's expression improved as he perked to the sound of her announcement. "Is that a thing now?" He ignored how insulted his friend seemed to be for being branded a whole new level of crazy and something about that delighted him. "Can we make that a thing moving forward?"

Anna tipped her head back as the boys argued, her gentle expression almost appearing like a smile as her thin lips parted in wonder. She looked up at her big sister with a fascinated twinkle in her eyes before refuting her statement. "But Onē-san is quite lady-like."

"Awe, see? It's so much cuter when you say it," Neirah crooned affectionately. "Wolf-kun isn't half this sweet."

Saburōta immediately leapt on the defensive with a bashful flush peeking out from just beneath his shades. "Oi! We've been over this!"

"Yes, I know," she purred. "I'm pretty sure I told you something similar a couple of weeks ago."

Saburōta groaned bleakly. "Onē-san really does have a sadistic side..."

From where she sat in Neirah's lap, Anna quietly shook her head to deny him. "Onē-san is kind."

Misaki's nerves grated as he turned around and snapped his fury towards Neirah. "Stop making Anna say weird things!" He then rotated his wrath towards Saburōta's mousy retreat. "You too! It's Tsukiyo! Tsu-ki-yo!"

Anna blinked back at Misaki's display vacantly for a moment before repeating her previous sentiment. "Tsukiyo-nē-san is kind, then."

Across the room, Izumo sniggered lowly under his breath to the sight of Misaki's defeat. "Yeah, when she's _sleeping_." His nonchalant effort caused Misaki to flinch when he hoisted the boy's birthday gift from behind the bar to set it on display. His expression humbled fondly to watch Misaki brighten with joy. "Anyways, happy birthday, Yata. Our vanguard just isn't complete if you're walking everywhere on foot. That'd be like Fushimi without his knives. Or Neirah without her attitude problems."

"I heard that," Neirah retorted in a low growl. Shortly after Izumo had discouraged her bickering for the sake of the one they were celebrating, she humbled and dismissed Anna from her lap. She crossed the bar feeling far less hostility by the time she arrived. "I feel bad," she admitted softly. "You really liked that rattleboard of yours, and you lost it because of me. When Tatara asked me what we should do for your birthday, I thought this seemed like the perfect idea."

Misaki reached out and touched the smooth finish of the board laid wheels-up in front of him. His gentle trace followed the tribal lines of HOMRA's trademark on the bottom of a skateboard to replace the one he'd lost during his rescue mission. "Guys... I don't know what to say."

Yō mischievously sniggered as he watched Misaki's speechless expression examine the beautiful piece of work. "Awe, you gonna cry?" With a predatory growl, Neirah reached out and snapped a hold of Yō's ear, jerking on it until he was whimpering his surrender. "Ow, owokayokay! I'll stop."

Next to Misaki, Saruhiko was filling with resentment when Rikio dropped his palm onto Misaki's shoulder. "Wanna go test it out?"

Misaki turned his eager smile towards Rikio and snatched up the board with the red bow still bound across its length. "Hell yeah, I do!" Before his mad dash could leave the bar in his dust, Misaki turned his attention to where Saruhiko remained. "Fushimi! You comin'?"

Saruhiko still had one arm lying flat on the bar as he turned in his seat and did his best to smile at his friend. "Nah, you go ahead. It's still too early for me."

Misaki shrugged it off and bounded out the door after Rikio. "Hey, sorry about bitin' you back there."

"Ah, it's fine. The first time's always the hardest."

"Right?!"

Saruhiko returned his dimming enthusiasm towards the bar with an impatient snort, but luckily, before he could dwell too rancorously on his jealousy, Neirah had taken Saruhiko's side. He didn't bother looking at her, but his expression did show signs of his exhaustion when he realized why that left him isolated among Izumo and Neirah's presence.

"So," Izumo started bluntly. "Did you two have any luck?"

To the sound of Saruhiko's bitter jeer, Neriah slowly shook her dismayed expression. "None," she admitted in defeat. "And the ones who escaped the night King-sama showed up were of no use to us either."

"They weren't given any details outside of that night," Saruhiko stated bleakly. "It's like that mission was some sort of initiation for them, and they clearly failed."

Izumo hummed in thought as he leaned both hands against his bar and considered their words. "Guess maybe they weren't as clumsy as we first thought." He straightened and directed his consideration towards Neirah. "And the Strain?"

"Can't be identified by what Tsukiyo and Yata saw that night," Saruhiko interrupted. "Even digging through the records from the centre pulled up nothing that seemed to match. Not that we had much to go off of."

Neirah's expression seemed to grow distant as she lost herself in the memories of the night that they lost Eiko. "I know this might sound strange, but I wish Goya were still alive. Because of the night we met Wolf-kun, Goya was forced into SCEPTRE4's custody, for a while, at least. I feel like if we could ask him about this now, he might have answers for us."

Saruhiko turned his analytical gaze towards the woman next to him. "He was the one who didn't feel pain, right?"

She nodded passively. "I watched that Strain hold a burning pipe without so much as flinching. He didn't even cry out when I struck him with my throwing knife, and I saw how badly he was bleeding towards the end. It was almost like... Goya all over again."

Turning his skeptical gaze towards Izumo, Saruhiko pressed the resemblance. "What are the chances that those experiments they were doing beneath the centre had anything to do with combining Strain abilities?"

Neirah seemed startled even to consider his theory. "Is that even possible?"

"Obviously not that any of us would be aware of," Izumo murmured dimly under his breath. "But maybe if we look at it differently, Fushimi's suggestion isn't as crazy as it sounds." He raised his gaze to observe the pair. "Think about how our clans work. If a vassal receives the power of one king and then joins another clan, it might be possible for them to carry the power of two kings." His expression grew hard with suspicion. "And with Goya, he was a Strain before he started working with «JUNGLE», so when he managed to get a piece of their power, it combined with his own."

Neirah's full gaze lowered from the sight to stare into the grain of the rosewood, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "So, it's possible that while he was there, Goya's power was shared with someone else."

"Stop that. It's annoying."

Neirah's hands stilled in her lap to the sound of Saruhiko's stern command, and soon, she was resting her fingers peacefully instead.

Heaving an exhausted sigh, Saruhiko slowly turned his gaze to meet Neirah's, but he didn't apologize for his irritability. "I care less about what made him who he is and more about what he wanted with you. This whole night is turning out to be a double-edged sword. I don't even know if the middlemen of that situation really know what their true objective was."

Izumo's brow creased as he absorbed the information challenging their suspicions. "Are you suggesting that the drug operation was just a cover for the Strain's desire to get a hold of our lion?"

Saruhiko didn't shift his gaze from Neirah's as they locked and communicated beyond words. Every time they did, a meek vagueness always seemed to seize her expression because he was the only one who wasn't afraid to challenge her intensity head-on. "Tsukiyo had ties with the Yakuza before HOMRA, right? And now she's being targeted by random Strains. I'm starting to think that we should pay less attention to the mafia's involvement and more attention to the targets that Tsukiyo's muted in the past."

With a dull scoff, he turned to face Izumo. "If the mafia's operation was just a cover, it'll come out in the wash once we get to the heart of this Strain's true objective. Even if it doesn't, I think we should consider it anyway, because if what we're suspecting is true, we're dealing with some vengeful bastard who might have the power to rival our king."

Izumo bowed his head with a crooked smile. The concept twisted with conspiracy, but Saruhiko's logic was sound. "It's worth a shot," he agreed calmly. "Maybe we're looking at this the way they want us to. I guess there's a good chance that our little lion was what they were after all along."

Saruhiko returned his hard expression towards the woman without an ounce of hesitation in his words. "Tsukiyo, how many boyfriends have you had?"

Izumo nearly tipped over despite quietly standing braced against the bar moments prior. "Now wait just a minute-"

Neirah didn't fluster to the accusation, but her brow did bind with curiosity. "Why do you ask?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he instigated impatiently. "When you were down there with Yata, the two of you said that this Strain came out of nowhere and attacked in ways that only put him in danger."

Neirah couldn't help but twist her smile with amusement. "You think this Strain has romantic feelings for me, and that he was acting against Yata-san out of jealousy."

"Are you suggesting that you can't see it?"

Neirah snorted lightly and closed her eyes, tipping her chin with a smug smile. "I hate to break it to you, but the only one who ever gets jealous of me spending time with other men is Chitose-kun." She opened her eyes and reassured him with a sheepish smile. "I've never had any romantic relationships. Everything I touched up until I joined King-sama's Red Clan fell to misfortune, remember?"

Izumo sighed softly over the sound of a scowling Saruhiko's frustrated groan. "There goes our easy list of potential culprits," he muttered bleakly. "Looks like you have a fan then, I guess."

Neirah raised her gaze to meet Izumo's upon passing. "Don't worry, Onii-san," she reassured him lightly. "I'm being cautious."

Izumo closed his eyes and snorted his amusement for the irony. "I know you're trying to help, but that might've been the most unsettling thing you could have said to me." He raised his impish expression to connect with her once more. "It's not like you to be so obedient."

Her once tender expression darkened ominously. "I'm not doing this for myself, I'm doing this for my clan," she corrected firmly. "This Strain put Yata-san _and_ Wolf-kun in danger because of me. I'm determined to make sure no one else gets hurt for this utter nonsense."

"Yeah, you always did care more about your boys than you do yourself. It's a real pain."

"I'm sure everything will sort itself out," she whispered fondly. "Fushimi-san has a beautiful brain. He challenges me to consider things that I wouldn't have thought possible." Despite Saruhiko's casual indifference, Neirah still offered him a grateful smile. "I know that, between the two of us, we'll have this case settled in no time."

"And what about Okazaki?"

Neirah flinched and turned her wild expression back towards their barkeep. "I-I'm sorry?"

"You heard me," Izumo sassed quietly. "No matter how many times you seem to turn him away, he keeps coming around this place like he's lookin' to belong."

Neirah thought he was making a joke at first and started to laugh, but when she realized his sincerity, her expression grew sombre. "Okazaki-san is just like that," she justified defensively. "He obsesses over silly things, but the man Yata and I saw that night was most certainly not Okazaki."

"I think what Kusanagi-san is trying to suggest is that there might be a chance that your old classmate might've tipped off your pursuer."

Neirah lunged forward against the bar between the men with an impatient growl. "Can we please be serious? How many times do I have to tell you that Okazaki-san is harmless?"

Waving his hand at her riled posture to settle her down, Izumo turned away from the conversation. "Fine, I'll drop it- for now," he cautioned her briskly. "But I hope you take me seriously this time when I say I don't want him comin' around here until we get this whole mess straightened out. Otherwise, I'll sick more than Yata on him."

Neirah scanned her peripherals as a shiver stole Saruhiko, and the shadow of her king darkened the bar at her front. In response, she sighed and lowered her voice before tipping her head directly backwards to connect gazes with Mikoto. "Let me guess, King-sama distrusts Okazaki-san too, doesn't he?"

Mikoto removed one of the hands he had stuffed in his pockets so that he could peel back her bangs and judge the sincerity in her gaze. "I'm just lookin' out for my own. That kid gives me a bad feelin'."

Even as the tension stiffened Saruhiko nearby, Neirah's body remained lax and comforted in the feeling of her king's warm palm on her brow. After a quiet moment of lingering locked in his lethargic ochre sights, she smiled at him fondly. "I promise I'll be careful," she admitted tenderly. "But when we find out that Okazaki-san didn't have anything to do with this, would you be willing to give him a chance?"

Mikoto scoffed lightly and dropped Neirah's bangs back into her face. "What is it Kusanagi's always sayin'? I was pretty sure it was something about you not dating until you're forty."

Neirah hastily combed her bangs back into place before whirling to face her king's retreat. "_Thirty_, King-sama!" she snapped irately at his departing saunter. "You'd better be an uncle by the time I'm forty!"

Mikoto casually dusted his flapping hand through the air as he scooped up Anna and made his exit. _Meh_.

Saruhiko watched through a vast and skeptical gaze as she slammed her balled fists down by her sides to the sound of Izumo's delighted sniggering.

"_Meh_?! Just for that, I hope any spawn of mine is just as defiant as I am!" she barked. "If I train them properly, I could probably get the lot of you to quit that filthy habit of yours." Outside of her comprehension, she missed the way that Yō began to perspire guiltily to know a condemning truth.

"Whoa, hold on there, Neirah," Izumo started uncertainly. "Now you're cursin' the rest of us, too."

Neirah tipped her bright smile over her shoulder to face him. "Ah, but that's not true anymore, Onii-chan," she sang spiritedly. "HOMRA is immune to my curse, right?"

"Yeah? Well, the way you're talkin' makes it sound like it just takes a little longer to kick in."

Neirah had to admit that when she reclaimed her seat, she felt a little heavier to consider that there may have been a chance that he was right, but she didn't dwell on it for too long. "I'll call Okazaki-san tonight and let him know I'll be leaving town for the summer break or something. That should get him off my case for a bit."

"Don't do that," Izumo surrendered. "If he isn't to blame for any of this, you know it'll do you no good to lie to him."

Her smile was meek as she accepted that maybe there was a chance that Gin wasn't as hated as they made him out to be. She nodded in acceptance of the situation and turned to where Saruhiko had gone unusually quiet ever since their king had visited. It made her brow crease hesitantly in thought. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed him tense up when Mikoto was around, but she didn't pry. For the remainder of the morning, they lingered closely in quiet comfort, neither of them saying a word. And there was nothing wrong with that.

* * *

It had been late in the afternoon when Rikio and Misaki returned to the welcoming smell of their friends preparing a celebratory dinner. There was a slight flush in Misaki's face to be humbled by their doting, and he stretched his arms out high above his grateful smile as he entered. "We're ba-!"

_Shh!_

Misaki cringed and darted his attention to where Anna's coarse figure was bent at the hips with one finger in front of her lips. "Ah- sorry Anna." However, he wasn't quite sure why he was apologizing.

Suddenly, the gaze that wandered past the bossy Strain had caught the sight of a slumbering mass on the couch bathing in the bright sunlight. He didn't watch as Anna dismissed herself towards the kitchen, nor did he bother taking much notice of Rikio shuffling around him in observance of the same rare sight.

"Tsukiyo mentioned that she didn't sleep that well last night," Rikio justified quietly. "I guess this whole investigation's got her burnt out."

Usually, Misaki would have picked apart everything his friend stated until he found something to quarrel over. Still, as his sights lingered on the peaceful expression painted over the woman's face, he couldn't. Just as he heard his friend start to step away, his words came without altering his consideration. "H-hey, Kamamoto?"

Rikio tipped over his shoulder and observed where his friend beckoned him unsteadily. "What is it, Yata-san?"

He lost a bit of nerve for every second that passed, and soon, his mouth was closed, his lips tightening over his continuation.

"Is something the matter?"

"T-that's Tsukiyo, right?" he continued docilely. "Lying there like that?"

Rikio cocked a brow beneath his shades and examined the woman through his bemusement. "Uh, you alright?"

Misaki dropped his chin and clenched his fists tight at his sides. "Just answer the damn question, would ya?!"

"Of course it is..." Rikio's voice was small and concerned as he returned to Misaki's side, watching from a distance as the sun kissed the woman's fawn features. "Why are you askin' somethin' like that anyway?"

Misaki's expression tightened again as his cheeks coloured, and he tapered his gaze. "Sometimes... it's hard to tell if there's two or not," he admitted vaguely. "So, I guess I just... wanted to be sure, is all."

"Two Tsukiyo-sans?" Rikio examined the contorting lines on Misaki's face and took into account the trembling of his fists. "Yata? Are you sure you're okay?"

"She saved my ass down there that night we ran into that Strain," he muttered bluntly through his teeth. "And I... I never thanked her for it." Tension seized his entire body to recall the events to transpire. "I went down there to rescue her, but I was the one that needed rescuing. And I just can't... I can't-" The tension released in his body as his eyes opened and filled with the gentle sight slumbering on the couch in the place of their king. "I'm an idiot," he surrendered through a meek smirk. "It doesn't matter how hard I try. I can't figure out how I feel about her. One minute she wants to kill me, the next, she's almost-"

Rikio's expression brightened with understanding. "Nē-chan is cute when she's sleeping, though." His calm smile remained as he sensed his companion tense by his side. "She used to have a hard time sleeping, back when she first joined us. Always havin' bad nightmares about her past. She's really opened up since then."

Misaki hopefully turned to face him. "R-really...?"

Rikio nodded with a sombre expression on his face. "She smiles a lot now and laughs. Nē-chan is actually very sweet." Rikio's breath got hung up beneath his collar as Misaki latched onto it and began to choke the answers from him.

"Why the hell didn't you say that kinda stuff in the first place?!"

"You didn't ask!" Rikio caught his breath and sighed softly when Misaki's attention was captured once more by the sleeping beauty. "If you wanna talk to her, just go do it. Totsuka-san's right. It's not hard."

Misaki whirled to face him with an accusing look of insult on his face. "What?! No way!" he denied frantically. "What the hell am I supposed to do? Walk over there and say, _hey! Did you know you're actually kinda cute when you're sleeping_? What the hell kinda creep does something like that!?"

The pair stilled to the sound of gentle moans coming from the couch, and when their frozen stances tipped their once-distracted gazes her way, she was raising her front against the cushions with one arm while her second hand dabbed her sleepy eyes. "Mn, too noisy."

While Rikio smiled, Misaki choked on the devastated squeak catching in his throat. Before he could retreat, Rikio was peeling him away from his comfort and shoving him towards the woman with a crooked grin on his face. "Good morning, Nē-chan. You know, since you're up now and all, Yata-san has something he wants to say to you."

"Dumbass! N-no, I don't!"

Rikio laid his hand on Misaki's shoulder with a stern look of concern on his face. "Look, Kusanagi-san's right. Just thank her already!" With his final warning, he had abandoned his friend to join in preparing for their supper. Everyone wanted the tension to die between Misaki and Neirah; some even doubting that it ever would.

Neirah groaned lightly and sat up to comb her fingers through her tousled locks that had kinked beneath her nap. She had successfully kicked her migraine, but she was starting to worry just how long she'd been out. "Well then?" Her instigation had a sweet, vulnerable rasp in its emission as she recovered from sleep. "What's on your mind?"

"I, w-well..."

She heaved a hearty sigh and connected their gazes. "Yata-san, is this going to be every day with us?" she drawled dismayingly. "Because frankly, it's exhausting." She didn't know what she expected when she startled him with her brutal honesty, but her casual approach seemed to force him to clam up. Sighing her defeat, she dusted her bangs over her brow with a single finger and reconsidered her approach. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong," she assured him gently. "What I mean to say is that I don't want you to feel like you're walking on broken glass with me. I just don't know how to make that happen for us."

"It's not-" Every time he tried to speak genuinely with her, specific thoughts stuck in his mind, and most recently, her birthday kiss hadn't helped. It caused his frustrated blush to deepen. Instead of responding to her, he left his statement half-spoken and clenched his fist.

It was disheartening for her to watch his struggle. None of the others had taken such a long time to warm up to her, and as the months passed, she wondered if they would ever come to terms. "Can I ask you something?" she started softly. She waited for him to shift his gaze, and when he had, she diverted hers so that his wouldn't flee. "What was different when we fought that Strain? Can you tell me?" When his extending silence admitted to her that he couldn't, she slowly turned her sad expression his way. "Because I would make it that way every day if it meant you stopped running away from me."

Misaki seemed startled and a little confused to hear her classify his resistance to her as fleeing. "I-I'm not running."

A faint smile brightened her gloomy expression. "Kamamoto-kun is maybe the second least confrontational one in our group, and he had to push you into this."

Misaki lunged forward like he was growing impatient with something. "I'm not running!" he reiterated fervently. "Look, nothing's different, okay!? It's just hard to figure you out, is all."

"Because I don't act like most girls?"

Misaki flinched at her audacity and tried to shake his guilt. "Why's it gotta have anythin' to do with you bein' a girl?!"

She huffed out a faux sigh of agitation and stood. "Because when you came for me that night, and I was in chains, I was a damsel in need of rescuing. The only time you seem to be okay with me is when I'm acting the way a girl should."

It was his turn to flash his fangs as he stepped into her advance confidently. "That- that's not even close! It was because of you that we made it out of there alive that night!" His face knotted to the look of vulnerability flashing on her expression when he called her out, but he'd already gone too far to stop. "What?! D' you think I didn't notice?! Just how stupid do you think I am?!"

Neirah humbled in the wake of his passion, finding herself feeling a little remorseful for pushing him to get so worked up.

With his emotions spiralling out of his control, he was finally confident enough to spit out his intended gratitude for weeks prior. "I'm sorry I didn't thank you for saving me back there, but just because I couldn't say it doesn't mean I didn't notice how totally badass you were. Before I joined HOMRA, I never thought I'd see a girl do anything that crazy." His voice softened as he looked at his feet with a sheepish pout stealing his once aggressive features. "I guess... I just don't know how to deal with that yet, so... maybe... just give me some time to figure it out."

He hated it; the way she could look at him with sweet smiles and gentle eyes. It made her hard to express himself with because he felt like he couldn't be himself. That part _was_ because she was a girl. But it wasn't that he was immature enough to believe that boys and girls couldn't be friends. If she were a rough-cut tomboy, he might have been able to manage something, but she wasn't. Anna was right. The beautiful woman in front of him was a real class-act, in his opinion. She was smart, talented and more mature than most of his HOMRA friends. She reminded him a lot of Saruhiko, so it continued to rattle him that he was a blundering idiot every time he tried to speak to her like a normal human being. If she and his best friend were alike, that meant that being around her should have been easy.

When he raised his attention to face her, the tenderness in her expression had caused his heart to palpitate. Outwardly, Misaki would claim that he hated it because he immediately felt like he was too hard on her. Her eyes were so expressive that he hated looking at them because he always felt like he was one step away from destroying any hope they ever had at maintaining their awkward friendship status.

Her voice was soft and kind as it interrupted his thoughts. "There, was that so hard?"

But she always managed to understand.

She approached him, still a little disappointed that he froze in place like her advance threatened him. With a gentle smile, she reached out and laid her hand against his cheek. "You never had to thank me," she assured him kindly. "It was a team effort to our mutual benefit. This is what friends do; they watch each other's backs. I thought you would have learned that by now."

Straight from her mouth, they were friends. Nothing he said had hurt her feelings or pushed her away, and all at once, he felt the guilt strike him for ever expressing that she didn't belong. Surprisingly enough, he didn't feel the need to shoo her touch away, and he laughed at the irony. "Man, I really am an idiot."

She let her hand slide away from his flushed face and maintained her tender grin. "Don't worry," she whispered fondly. "You aren't the only one who didn't think I belonged here."

From where Izumo was leaning in the doorway, observing their secluded confessions, his heart warmed and smile broadened. It was true; they were a sour combination from the start. Their earnest conversations were few and far between, and Neirah was a complicated woman to follow, but that day was the first time he ever heard the laughter in their voices as they admitted their mistakes to one another.

Just as Tatara was about to sneak by him, he reached out almost reflexively and grabbed the man's collar, dragging him out of the main bar area. "Leave them be, Totsuka."

"But I want to know what they're saying," he whined.

Izumo shook him off inside the doorway, careful not to let him go any further. "The words aren't what matter here," he educated softly. "They never were."

Tatara examined the pair by the bar as Misaki sheepishly scratched his nape to the sound of Neirah's musical laughter. "Kusanagi-san, you don't think-" Tatara's words muffled behind Izumo's agitated palm braced solidly over his face.

"Not now."


	10. Klepto

**Klepto**

* * *

The sun was high in the skies above Shizume City and remained undaunted by the presence of clouds. The water reflected the crystal-clear skies, and cicadas clicked an ode to the scorching temperatures. To beat the heat, Yō and Masaomi approached their home base with intensions on inviting their friends to join them at the beach. Rather, Masaomi didn't have the energy to keep tabs on his flirtatious counterpart if they went, so what he was requesting was backup.

The slow trickle of sweat leaking over his face caused Masaomi to tip his hat from his brow and rake his fingers through his side-swept onyx bangs with a deep sigh. There was nothing more annoying than the itch of something sliding over your face that could be mistaken for an insect. "Too hot," he groaned. Every part of the overbearing heat made him irritable.

"You did just down your third coffee already," Yō instigated flatly. "Y' know you can drink those things iced, right?"

"That isn't coffee," Masaomi snapped. "That's sugar-milk, and it's gross."

Growing impatient with his associate's sour attitude, Yō growled lightly under his breath. "Well, then don't drink a bunch of hot shit and complain about it being too hot."

"It's not the inside of me that's too hot, it's the outside."

Yō's gaze tapered skeptically on his friend as he picked a cigarette out of its package. "Eh? Either you're actually being conceited right now, or you're makin' zero sense."

"Damn it," Masaomi hissed acridly under his breath. "If this keeps up, my brain's gonna melt and I'll turn into you."

Yō paused, muffling his retort around the smoke he'd pinched between his lips. "You're welcome…?"

"Not a compliment."

Yō grunted his acknowledgement as he held the bar door open for his colleague. But before he let Masaomi pass, he knocked his knuckles against the man's chest and offered his upturned palm to be filled.

Masaomi's brow creased as he looked down at Yō's hand and then to where his friend was chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette. "What're you looking for a tip or something? Did all this heat bake your brain too?" He growled lightly and cuffed his companion up the side of his head. "It's too hot to deal with your shit right now."

After wincing to the unwarranted swat, Yō retracted his scan and locked gazes with his unusually irritable companion. "Okay, first of all, fuck you," he growled in rebuttal. "Second of all, hand it over already. I'm gonna need a few of these before dealin' with your crappy attitude the rest of the day." Typically, the caffeine calmed his acrimonious cohort, but that day it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Masaomi wrinkled his nose beneath the analytical knot in his brow. "If you're talking about the lighter, you had it last."

Stricken by doubt, Yō rolled his fresh light to the other side of his lips and checked his summer pockets. "Eh? Pretty sure I gave it to you last night at dinner."

"Yeah. You did," Masaomi snapped edgily. "Then, I handed it back to you this morning before we got kicked out of that little coffee shop you like so much."

Yō stilled mid-pat-down and gave his friend an incredulous scan. By the sounds of it, his comrade was trying to deride the interest Yō had in the establishment. "Have you _seen_ the girl who works there?"

"I hope you got a good look, 'cause they're not gonna be happy if we ever show our faces there again." Masaomi was too exhausted to keep his composure with Yō's antics that afternoon as he diverted his eyes, fanning himself with his cap. "I don't have the lighter."

As he watched Masaomi turn to enter the bar without him, Yō tossed his arms out to either side of his torso. "You know what? If you're just gonna be a dick all day, you can stay-" The startled yip that escaped Yō's lips almost lost his cigarette when the world before his nose ignited spontaneously to the pass of their king.

"There. Problem solved," Mikoto rumbled evenly.

"You two sure fight a lot in the summer," Tatara sang spiritedly from his king's side. His grip on Anna's hand tightened as he led her out of the doorway so that Yō could pass them if he wished. "Well, more so than usual, I guess."

Yō groaned and pinched his sizzling smoke between fingers, steadying the burn at the end with a deep breath. "Dewa's a real bitch in the heat, which is stupid when you think about the shit he's always putting in his face," he rumbled impatiently. "Not to mention, he blames me for shit that I didn't do." As soon as he heard Masaomi's derisive snort come from inside the bar, he glowered through the doorway to return his impatient scowl. It was no surprise that Masaomi had already demanded a bag of ice from Izumo to hold against his nape.

"You had it last, so if it's gone, it's your fault," he hollered. "This is exactly why I have to hold onto it."

To the sound of Masaomi's retort, Yō ground the toe of his shoe into the front step, and this caused Mikoto to stir. A low rumble rattled around his chest in a well-contained display of impatience. "Why don't you just get your own? Every time I turn around, one of you is pissed off that it's AWOL."

Yō straightened between Tatara and Mikoto in the doorway with a sheepish peripheral scan. "It's a long story," he assured them through his heat exhaustion. "But the gist of it is that Dewa's convinced I lose mine too often and have to borrow his anyways, so we just share."

Rolling his dubious leer over his shoulder, Masaomi connected his lethal chocolate stare with Yō's. "It's because you get too drunk and leave it with strange women that you never see again."

Tatara snickered in the doorway to the sound of Masaomi's blunt holler. "That's kind of cute. And I bet you don't lose it as often knowing it belongs to both of you."

"Sounds like that might've been working fine up until now," Mikoto jeered.

"I didn't lose it," Yō corrected sternly upon his entry. "I'm sure it's probably at home somewhere. I'll look for it later when it isn't a hundred degrees in that place."

"Heat rises," Masaomi scowled. "That's what you get for livin' up in the clouds."

"Oi! Y' know how many times I've scored bringin' chicks over to _see the view_?" When Yō turned over his shoulder to the sound of Tatara gasping and covering Anna's ears, he smiled awkwardly. "Ah… the view of the sunset over the city, of course!"

Dismissing the topic at hand, Masaomi turned over his shoulder to face where Mikoto and Tatara were preparing to depart with Anna between them. "Where're you three off too, anyway? We were thinking of heading to the water a little later to drown Chitose's libido. Interested?"

Tatara's smile broadened mischievously. "Ah, sorry. As much as we'd love to sit and listen to you two fight all day, we have plans with our princess."

"Anna-chan could come too," Yō reassured them kindly. "Shizume's beaches could always use another pretty lady."

"I think you're gonna have enough of them down there on a day like this," Mikoto refuted. "But if you're insistent, I think the kid's lookin' for somethin' to do."

Yō's expression seemed to brighten. "Tsukiyo's here?"

"You didn't honestly think she was going to stay home and do schoolwork all summer, did you?" Tatara's smile broadened to flash his entertainment. "As much as I'm sure Kusanagi-san would love that, she has way too much energy when the sun's out. Unfortunately, he won't let her out of his sight since that whole Strain incident, so she's going a little stir-crazy." He turned to face Mikoto's uneasy shift, and the topic caused his confidence to falter. "Ah, she's upstairs right now, contorting herself into pretty inhuman positions."

Yō's gaping jaw almost lost his much-needed cigarette as his face flushed hotter. "She's doing what now?"

From where she was stepping out from around the bar next to Izumo, Neirah smiled and finished binding her black headband across her brow, adjusting it until the embroidered flames were visible. She'd pulled her bangs from her face, and her hair was tied in a high-set ponytail. It was the only time of year anyone saw that she had ears and could comprehend the beautiful array of studs lining the edge.

She seemed startled by the pressure of eyes observing her, and she stopped in her tracks before picking a dainty ivory earbud out of her ear. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"Nē-chan's got the right idea." Adjusting the ice on his nape to the side of his neck, Masaomi took a moment to appreciate the strength their hunter usually concealed beneath modest clothing. "Hard to be hot when you're wearing next to nothing."

The cigarette Yō had just lit flopped limply between his lips as he considered the same sight. "Gonna have to disagree with you, Dewa," he muttered beneath his breath. "And not just to pick a fight, either."

Feeling a little less irritable as he cooled, Masaomi ignored his friend's frisky comment and welcomed Neirah to his side. The only time he ever saw her wear sneakers was when she was going for a run. "It looks like you're getting ready to hit the gym or something. How can you even operate in this heat?"

With a gentle laugh, Neirah hummed her amusement and picked Masaomi's hat off the bar so she could rest it on her crown. "That's a silly question to ask. You know my internal thermostat is bonkers. I'm taking advantage of the energy as it comes."

"I guess this isn't any stranger than when I caught you wearing Kamamoto's sweater last July," he teased.

She rolled her fingers across the beak of his hat and then leaned to check herself in the reflection of the glass before wrinkling her nose up, determining that it wasn't a hat day. "You remember that? That was almost a year ago."

"Just over," Masaomi crooned to correct her. "July 13th 'bout a quarter after ten o'clock. It was raining, and you were complaining about the wind." He heard Yō take his side, but he didn't divert his attention from Neirah's impressed gaze as he spoke. "I'm pretty much the only reason Chitose knows anything about what happens between the hours of ten and two."

Interrupting Masaomi's dig, Yō brushed past to the other side of his friend and took Neirah's hand in his. "Nē-chan, please come to the beach with us," he nearly begged. "I don't think I can handle him like this all day."

Neirah laughed uneasily and drew her free hand to her nape. "Don't worry, Chitose-kun. I'm sure he'll be fine once you get him cooled down."

Yō's expression grew severe rather quickly. "Then, no offence, but Nē-chan has to leave." Though, he couldn't bring himself to suggest that she put more clothes on than her sports bra and skimpy spandex booty-shorts.

Neirah recoiled as Masaomi quietly raised his foot and beat Yō onto the floor with a swift strike to his lumbar. "You're the one who's pissing me off." He sighed his exasperation before lowering his icepack and removing his glasses to rub the sweat from the bridge of his nose. It was irritating. But when he did, he caught the sight of the brilliant day's light reflecting off a charm dangling from Neirah's belly. "I didn't know you had your navel pierced."

Casually, Neirah hummed when she dropped her attention to the bright diamonds causing colourful refractions to catch Masaomi's eye. "This? That's right. Kamamoto-kun came with me to get this done. He's close with one of our informants who also runs a tattoo parlour. Coincidentally, he makes a mean tonkotsu ramen too!" She smiled brightly and raised her gaze from the glistening tail of the shooting star to where she met his curiosity. After poking the side of her nose with her index finger, she continued. "I've been meaning to go back and ask him to do my nose too."

After returning his glasses to his face, Masaomi reached out and pulled the long pieces of free hair from her cheek so that he could see her ear. "And how many do you have here now?"

She smirked and scurried away from his touch when it batted at the silver stake charm that she wore on her left ear only. "Three each."

His smile was sardonic as he set his hat on his head and checked his peripherals for Izumo's disapproval. Unfortunately, the bartender had been busy serving customers and didn't have time for the delinquents loitering around his bar. "It seems every time you and Kamamoto hang out, you end up with more tattoos or piercings."

Neirah snickered and pawed at the brim of his cap playfully. "Don't attack Kamamoto-kun while he's not here," she commanded cheekily. "His only involvement was showing me the place where he got his done."

"You still didn't give me an answer about the beach," Yō interrupted upon climbing to his feet. "I mean, you're practically already dressed for it."

Neirah laughed at his implications. "Chitose, this is workout attire. It's for a different kind of wet." She closed her eyes and tipped her hands out to either side of her, ignoring the dropping of both men's expressions. "I know it might seem foreign to you, but this is what I wear to exercise."

Even as Yō shuddered to her utter insult, Masaomi hummed his joyful approval. "Mhm, that settles it. Nē-chan is truly the only woman for me." He snickered again when Neirah shoved the rim of his hat over his eyes with a flustered pout.

"You can't say those things and then reprimand Chitose-kun." She smiled and stretched her linked fingers high above her head before swaying from side to side. "So, my answer would be no. I'm going to go for a run today, but you two are more than welcome to join me."

Izumo was the one to interrupt their conversation with a bright laugh as his eavesdropping drew him into their midst. "Please tell me I heard that right. Did you really just ask these two knuckleheads to run with you?"

She tipped her disgruntled pout towards him and continued to stretch. "Problem?"

Izumo's smile humbled as he tugged lightly on her thick ponytail. "Actually, there is," he noted sternly. "You said you would be careful. Going off on your own and physically exerting yourself seems like the exact opposite of _caution_."

"Did you not hear what I just said?" she snapped impatiently. "When the adrenaline is there, I have to use it. Otherwise, it will end poorly for all of you. What, do you want me to do laps of the bar? You know how anxious I get when I'm this wound up." With a wicked smirk, she lurched to life and swung her leg over her head like she was going to strike her overprotective brother-figure. Unfortunately, Izumo's reflexes were just as sharp as hers, and he locked his immovable grip on her ankle to halt her.

With an entertained snigger, Izumo rolled her ankle to one side so that he could lock his gaze with the one she'd hidden behind her white runner. "Sounds like a threat."

Her smirk became malicious as her deep azure gaze sparkled with impatience. "You're always saying I have a bad attitude," she mocked ardently. "How can you think that locking me in a cage is going to help?" She huffed her frustration as he released her foot and allowed her to slam it back on the floor between them.

"I'd rather your crappy attitude than the alternative," he reasoned soundly. Concern flickered in his soft hazel gaze to try and communicate his deeper worry while others looked on. "And you promised. Until we figure out what this creep wants, you're operatin' on a buddy system."

"There hasn't been any movement on that front for weeks," she refuted passionately.

"So, we're lucky."

Neirah rolled her eyes from Izumo towards the door where Misaki, Saruhiko and Rikio were stepping through the entryway in conversation. "Then, if I find someone to run with me, I can go?"

He shrugged, choosing not to deride her assumption that anyone in their clan would run with her. "I suppose that's what I'm gettin' at, yeah. But you should be taking this more seriously."

Rikio's tone seemed to be distressed as he explained his situation to his companions. "I swear I had them last night, but when I went to grab them before I left today, they were gone." With a dismal groan, he reached to his brow and shoved back the golden bangs he'd been far too lazy to trim. "I've thought about it all day, and I don't know where they could be."

While sucking on his melty ice pop, Misaki's expression was hard with doubt as his narrow gaze observed his associate's turmoil. "Are you sure you didn't just eat them?"

"You know I can't even think of eating in all this heat."

"Weirdo…"

"Don't ignore me, young lady." Izumo's tone had hardened as he lectured the woman preparing to bolt. "We talked about this."

Neirah returned her gaze towards the concern in Izumo's eyes with a bright smile. "That's right, we did," she assured him soundly. "That's why I'm not going alone."

Reasonably distracted by Neirah's tantrum, Izumo didn't bother scolding Misaki for bouncing up onto a barstool and laying his skateboard down on the bar. _Oh?_

"That's why I'm taking Yata-san with me."

Hearing his name spoken from just down the bar, Misaki turned towards the conversation he hadn't had a chance to be apart of with an inquiring knot in his face. "Huh? D' you say something, Tsukiyo?" he muffled around the frozen treat.

Neirah slipped to Misaki's side, careful to keep her travelling gaze locked with Izumo's the entire time. "That's right. I said I'm taking you running with me."

"Running?" Misaki seemed alarmed with her summer attire and the prospect of having to watch her barely-strapped-down double-ds run. "W-w-wait- I'm what?!" Then, he flinched, nearly choking on his popsicle as he flustered. "Ah! Shi- Brain freeze!"

Finally, Neirah connected her eyes with Misaki's over a hopeful smile. "I need an escort or Onii-san won't let me go," she reasoned diplomatically. "Plus, you might be the only one here capable of keeping up with me." She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow and displayed a pleading look in her bright eyes. "And it might be nice to spend some time with you when I'm not invading your personal space."

Misaki narrowed his bashful gaze on her skeptically. "She says as she nudges me..."

With a delighted giggle, she took a step away and waved her hands in surrender. "Okay, no more. I promise."

Izumo heaved a heavy sigh and bowed his head in surrender. "Well, if Yata's okay with it, you can go. But I want you two back before sundown."

"H-hey! Don't make it sound like a date!" Misaki barked irately.

"Don't be silly," Izumo mocked musically. "If it were a date, then she wouldn't be goin' anywhere, and you'd be runnin' for different reasons."

Neirah smiled fondly and bowed her head towards her friend. "Please, Yata-san? Come burn some energy with me."

After licking the wooden stick clean of ice, Misaki recoiled in panic and dropped out of his seat like her formalities had made him uncomfortable. "Okay, okay, I'll go," he grumbled sheepishly. He passed his empty stick off to Rikio for disposal. "You don't have to be so uptight about it."

Neirah was eager to spring forward into the bright light ahead of them as she slid one of her headphones back into her ear. "Arigatō!" she murmured graciously. "If I stayed inside all day on such a beautiful afternoon, I'd lose my mind."

Izumo leaned over the bar and tugged her earbud free again so that there was no excuse for her not to have heard him. "I'm serious, Neirah," he reminded her coarsely. "If I have to send Mikoto after you tonight, I'm putting you both on house arrest."

"Me?! I'm not the one this Strain jerk is after!" Misaki snapped in rebuttal. As soon as he got the words out of his mouth, he regretted them, remembering that the last time the three of them met, he _had_ been the target.

"That's right, you too, Yata," Izumo instructed sternly. "Make sure she's back before nightfall."

Neirah waved her hand back at his concern as she started for the door. "Nightfall this time of year isn't until at least seven o'clock. If Yata-san can keep up with me until then, I will be most impressed."

Misaki took the immediate challenge in her snarky retort, and he found himself growing anxious to chase after her. "Oh, it's on," he nearly growled through the teeth he'd bared in a wicked beam. "I'll make you eat those words for sure." Just as he was about to grab his skateboard, Neirah turned over her shoulder and instructed him to leave it behind.

"Leave it," she cautioned him. "You won't need it where we're going."

He seemed hesitant for a moment, but eventually, he shrugged off his concern and chased after her instead. "I'll be back for that, Kusanagi-san!" He made it to Neirah's side just as she adjusted her playlist on her music player and picked a pair of shades from the low neckline of her plum sport's bra. When he noticed the style of frames on her bobbing head, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Wait a sec, are those Kamamoto's sunglasses?"

She smiled back at him casually from behind the protection of the dark tint. "Yeah. He let me borrow them."

"Eh? You sure?"

To the sound of Saruhiko's bitter snort, Izumo shifted his observation from the sight of Neirah and Misaki vanishing to where Saruhiko diverted his attention to ignore their departure. "Somethin' the matter?" he pried quietly. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you wanted to join them."

Saruhiko closed his eyes, throwing his nose up in the air before starting through the door like he might be taking up the man's suggestion. It would have surprised them, but that wasn't his true intentions. "Get real," he snarled under his breath. Before anyone could interject, the gathering watched from behind curious gazes as he departed for home.

"What the hell's his deal, anyway?" Masaomi muttered grimly. "His attitude's even worse than mine in the summer, but it's all year round for him."

Yō snapped his sights away from the man's disgruntled departure. "I don't know what Nē-chan sees in him. Up until she and Yata started getting along, she must've just been hanging out at their place to be with him, right?"

Izumo lowered his gaze to the sight of Misaki's skateboard on the bar, then after a moment, he picked it off and tucked it safely by his feet. "Totsuka says that she just wants him to feel included, but I'm not so sure that's what he's after."

Turning to face the bar with an even sigh, Masaomi dismissed his interest in the man who had just abandoned their company. "Well, he'd better figure out what he wants soon, or he's gonna get left behind."

"Don't say that," Izumo scolded sternly. "He's reliable enough."

Tapping the ashes from his cigarette in the tray next to Masaomi, Yō nodded his head quietly in agreement. "Yeah, if Tsukiyo's okay with him, then so am I. If there was somethin' crooked happenin', she'd pick up on it for sure."

Izumo's brow creased with consideration as his sights lingered on the empty streets. "Our lion's got a sharp set of instincts, for sure," he calmly agreed. "But this one's tryin' hard not to be figured out."

Unable to get the disgusted knot out of his face, Saruhiko walked into the blazing rays of the sun towards home. He couldn't stand it. Having Neirah around used to spur conflict and unrest, but ever since he had let Misaki chase after her, things had started to change.

When Saruhiko told Misaki that he wouldn't have long to be Neirah's hero, he meant it ironically to tease him. It had always entertained him to watch his friend rant and rave irrationally over the pettiest of concerns. It kept their lives interesting. It seemed to him like that was all coming to an abrupt halt, though, as the pair grew closer. Misaki was officially being absorbed into the pack as Saruhiko fought passionately to distance himself. There was no unrest left to keep the days exciting, and he found it incredibly tedious.

As he hunched his shoulders and slowed his rushed steps with the weight of abandonment tightening his chest, he laughed lightly to himself to consider that all the while everyone else was complaining about the heat, he was so cold he'd begun to numb.

* * *

Misaki had always been athletic enough to hold his own in any contest of endurance, but when Neirah challenged him to free-run the city and beat her to the top of the tallest building in the business district, he thought he'd drop. When she said she wanted to go for a run, he expected that she meant a couple of laps around the block. Instead, he'd raced, jumped and climbed his way to the building overlooking the metropolis, barely keeping his heart from bursting as the adrenaline of spite fueled his charge. The last thing he'd wanted was to look the fool, but he could silently admit that he'd met his match in HOMRA's hunter.

His eyes tightly sealed as he dropped his head back upon straightening so that they wouldn't burn with the sweat rolling over his face. He barely managed to climb onto the rooftop, and as embarrassed as he was for his struggle, he needed to survive the backlash of his mad dash. "Y-you… You're friggen crazy…" He panted haggard breaths as they raced into his lungs, and when she didn't respond, he narrowly peeked across the muggy rooftop with one scarcely open eye. "Hey. Did you hear me?"

Suddenly, both of his eyes flew open to the sight of the empty roof, and his heart started to palpitate with new sensations. "Ts-Tsukiyo?" He quickly turned over his shoulder to check and see if she was there, but nothing, save for the glow of the descending sun, met his sights. "H-holy crap! I beat her?!" He flinched to the sound of a gentle feminine grunt sounding to the percussive thump of her shoes striking the concrete, and he whirled to face her arrival in disbelief.

"Ah, so you're here already, are you?" With a soft moan, Neirah straightened. She touched her fingers to her glossy collar, sliding them on the wet surface as shimmering droplets slipped into her cleavage to dampen her spandex top. "I am _thoroughly_ impressed, Yata-san."

Misaki's throat worked, and he knew his heart was going to hate him for putting it through so much turmoil that afternoon. But just as the sun was starting to warn them of nightfall, its fierce golden glow reflected off her fawn skin in all the right places to highlight her body's tension, and it was making him incredibly uncomfortable.

Raising her fingers from her still heaving chest, she chuckled softly and dusted her damp hair from where it clung to her cheek. "What's this? I expected moderate gloating at the very least." Her confident stare connected with his and reading his discomforted expression told her all she'd needed to know about his vulnerable state. Surrendering her mock seduction, she popped one set of knuckles against her cocked hip and smiled at him wryly. "Don't tell me we're going back to this again?"

Seemingly startled by his guilt, Misaki scrambled to straighten and apologize for his indecency. "A-ah, sorry! You just caught me a little off guard, is all." He turned his flushed expression away and poked the tips of his forefingers together. "I mean, you kinda look pretty girly right now." He shuddered in alarm for his misdirection when she sweetly hummed her curiosity, and he didn't know whether it was more challenging to deal with the sexy Neirah or the adorable one. "Not that you don't look like a girl normally, but y-you don't look as tough without your leather. N-Not that you don't look tough now, but-!"

The moment his nervous prattling was interrupted by her soft giggle, he stalled and slowly turned to face her again. That was when he watched her light up in a full-bodied wave of laughter. He scrutinized her, uncertain of a time she'd ever laughed from the inside out in front of him. He was still getting used to the different shades of her personality, but he was also beginning to appreciate them more as time passed. Right around the time he was admitting that he'd never seen her look quite so happy, she was settling and wiping the tears from her eyes that her outburst had risen.

"W-what's so funny?" he interrupted nervously.

After raising Rikio's sunglasses to the top of her head, she took a seat on the rooftop once she'd finally regained enough composure to respond to his meek inquiry. "I'm sorry, that was a little rude," she admitted brightly. "It's just ironic to hear you say that. I was just thinking to myself not five minutes ago that you're the only one who makes me feel that way."

Misaki stiffened as she gave him her back like she may have anticipated that he would join her. "W-what way?"

The unfiltered sunlight caused her skin to glow as she turned her fond smile over her shoulder to face him. "Like a girl."

When she turned away and set him free of her sentiment, his expression began to bind hesitantly. After a silent moment of contemplation, he quietly joined her side and took a seat next to her. As he folded his legs beneath him, he settled quietly with his sights on the horizon before turning his prying gaze towards the view of her diverted attention. "You… you are a girl, right?"

Neirah thrust her chin towards him with one brow cocked, and the other burrowed into the crook of her nose. Between that look and the way Neirah's glossy insignia bobbed on the swell of her breast, he'd taken the hint. He turned his embarrassed pout away with a bitter scoff. "Don't look at me like that," he growled inordinately. "It was the way you said it. Like what the hell else are you supposed to feel like?"

Staring at him directly long after his gaze had retreated, she finally surrendered the sentiment with a gentle smile. "Never mind." Maybe it was too complicated of a feeling for her to try and explain. "You just make me feel girly sometimes. It's nice."

His brow knotted to try and wrap his head around her insinuations, and then finally, he surrendered to the unknown. "Well, whatever, I guess. I mean, you _are_ a girl."

With a heavy sigh, she delighted in the comfort of his presence as she gazed into the golden flames of the sun while it devoured the ombre sky. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her favourite candies, popping one between her teeth before offering him the same. She could use the boost of energy after her trek. "Mn, milk candy?" Her tone muffled as she knocked the hard treat against her teeth. "They're the strawberry kind."

Misaki immediately twisted his face in denial. "Eh? Gross. Why'd anyone ruin a perfectly good candy like that?"

She giggled and retracted her offering. "Don't like strawberry?"

"Nah, I'm not a milk person." He stuck his tongue out like the very thought made him gag. "I could do strawberry, though, I think."

Neirah's face flushed with the warmth of their companionship. Misaki noticed that Neirah was staring at him for a while because he kept discretely peeking in his peripherals like he was waiting for her to stop. "You know, that really is my favourite thing about you."

He tensed again by her side. "Yeah, and what's that…?"

She released him from the tension by turning her eyes on the burning horizon. "Your honesty. It's refreshing." As the silence extended between them, she started to let her thoughts wander to the day when Tatara had opened up to her slightly. It had taken her a whole year to feel just a little bit closer to him, but with Misaki, it had been a matter of days. It baffled her because she and Tatara had felt an instantaneous connection, whereas Misaki had met her with nothing short of hostility. Then, if she were fair, she wasn't much kinder.

"The world is so much bigger than I ever thought it would be," she whispered in low admittance. "Filled with so many unique people with unique dreams. Up until about a year and a half ago, I wanted nothing to do with it. Now, I want to smile and laugh with all sorts of different people."

Growing braver since she'd looked away, Misaki was confident enough to watch the sunlight reflect in her glassy gaze as she observed its set. The woman he saw at that moment was the same one who had stirred his suspicions the first day she'd spent the night at his home. Now that he knew a little more about what made her tick, something about her warmth began to comfort him. "Kamamoto was sayin' somethin' about that the other day," he instigated quietly. "He said you were pretty dark at one point."

Neirah slowly nodded her agreement with the man's bold statement. "That's certainly one way of putting it. But I think the truth was that I was just afraid; of everything, actually."

Misaki snorted wryly. "Yeah, right. You? I could believe gloomy, but _scared_?"

She bowed her head with a humbled flush in her cheeks. "It sounds strange now. By the time you met me, I was already well on my way to healing. All it took was one touch, and all of that contagious positivity was rubbing off on me."

Keeping his tapering sights locked observantly on the woman's dampening spirits, Misaki pressed the matter curiously. "You're talking about Totsuka-san, aren't you?" His throat worked apprehensively to watch her smile broaden even as her brow warped with disdain.

"You're so easy to read," she diverted in a gentle whisper. "But no matter how close I am with him, I still feel like there are things that he hides from me. I just can't believe that someone could be that perfect." She thought about the day he had opened up to her about his concern for their king, but it wasn't enough. All it proved was that there were things that he had kept from her. It made her wonder how many other truths hid from her behind his reassuring smile.

"I'm sure King-sama and Kusanagi-san know, though. He's closer to them." Whereas Tatara would be capable of keeping his smile displayed, hers had begun to fade with the day's dying breath and her voice to a faint whisper. "All we ever talk about is my problems. It makes it hard to return the favour…"

Misaki wasn't sure that he was comfortable with the conversation anymore as her confidence began to fade. Still, he couldn't help his interest since they'd reached grounds where they could communicate. "You… you really love him, don't you?"

Her expression contorted wryly with mischief. "Does that make you jealous?"

"Y-yeah, right!" he barked defiantly in a tizzy.

Neirah didn't seem fazed by his insinuation at all, and maybe that was because it wasn't the first time such a bold accusation presented itself. "With all my heart," she admitted musically. "He's my best friend, after all. That's why it upsets me to think he's suffering without my knowing. If he were as open as you, maybe I'd be able to help him." She turned her hopeful observation back towards her new companion. "I mean, everybody has scars."

Growing more comfortable being the shoulder she needed to find support, Misaki opened himself to their conversation by leaning his hands behind him. "Well, maybe he doesn't," he theorized bluntly. "I mean, if you guys are so close, he probably woulda told you by now, so I'm sure it's fine."

Neirah could appreciate his simple logic, but her active mind still worried. She was so damaged when they met that she knew Tatara wouldn't want to burden her unstable state with any problem of his. But now that she was stronger, things were starting to surface. She still smiled to consider Misaki's optimism. "How can you tell when Fushimi-san is upset?"

She flinched to the sound of Misaki's disgruntled snort like her question was unwarranted. "Fushimi's pretty straight forward too, so I don't think that's gonna help you," he proclaimed dryly. "Trust me. You know when he's pissed off."

She cocked her head to one side with a thoughtful pout. "Let's set aside the fact that I don't think Tat-chan has it in him to be angry at anything. Does Fushimi-san not have days where he's down?"

Misaki tilted to meet her gaze directly. "Ehn? Do you even know him? He's kinda a hard-ass."

She didn't seem overly comforted by his enthusiasm. "I suppose so. I guess I don't really know him that well."

Reclaiming his arms, Misaki flopped forward and kept his attention fixed on her. "But now that you mention it, I was kinda curious," he admitted vaguely. "You and him actually seem to be okay. You might not've noticed, but Saru's not really that easy to get along with. I was sorta wonderin' what all that was about."

"Hm? What do you mean?" She met his interrogation with an enquiry. "I didn't try very hard."

"That's what I mean," he pressed. "You asked how I knew when something was up, well this is one of those times."

"I don't upset him, do I?"

"Hell if I know."

Neirah smiled and gently shook her head. "Lovely. I come here looking for clarity, and I'll walk away with another mystery on my plate."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Misaki admitted bashfully. "I shouldn't've said anything. Shot for shot, I guess."

She gently flapped her fingers at him to dismiss his culpability. "Don't worry about it. What we should consider is that the sun is starting to set, and we were supposed to be home before that time." She turned to face him eagerly. "Ready for round two, Yata-san?"

"Yata…"

Neirah startled, her widened gaze scouring his flushed pout as he diverted it sheepishly from her direct sights. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Just Yata is fine," he murmured self-consciously. "You don't gotta be so formal. I mean, we are friends… right?"

Neirah's heart flooded with warmth, and it began to race long before she had even climbed to her feet in an attempt to beat the moon back to the bar. "O-of course."

"Good." He didn't' know what made it good, but considering his blunt statement made the pigment deepen in his cheeks. "Just let me know if Chitose keeps harassing you, and I'll kick his ass." Because that's what friends did, and he was becoming clumsier in his attempt to express his sincerity.

"I think I can handle Chitose-kun on my own," she sang upon raising.

He scoffed lightly and joined her. "Yeah, but it'd be nice to have an excuse to pound him every now and then."

"Yata?"

Her instant recognition had caused his chest to ache. "Y-yeah?"

"You don't have to try so hard."

"I-I was just sayin'!"

The competition had long ended between them, so the journey down from their perch was much more leisurely. When Misaki was the first one dropping down from the fire escape mounted to one of their many stepping stones, he even offered his arm to the gracious lioness. He couldn't help but notice that even in her flats, she tended to walk on her toes, and it looked kind of goofy. Not to mention, he was still a little bitter that she remained so close to his height. Only a few inches separated them, so when she stretched herself, it reminded him how close they were. "Careful," he cautioned her briskly. "You're gonna break your damn leg walkin' like that."

Neirah rolled her eyes and quickly swiped her hand from his support. "I've been at this for a long time," she interjected. "I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing."

"If you don't quit it, your feet are gonna get stuck like that, and you're gonna look like some creepy bird-lady."

Neirah keeled over, nearly falling on her face as her laughter took her by surprise. "Oh, wow. Your pillow-talk is even better than Fushimi-san's."

"See! You almost fell!"

"Because of what you said!"

Misaki snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned up his nose to the sight of her passing him. "Sure, laugh it up," he spat edgily. "Just don't expect me to carry you around like Kamamoto does all the time because you busted up your feet."

When he opened his eyes and moved to take a step after her, his entire world shifted as he was dragged back into the alley by his shoulder. All he could think about when he watched his fingers reach for his friend in vain was the way Izumo had warned them to return before nightfall.

It took him a moment to realize that he was falling away from the sight of her unawareness, and then another one to find the words he needed to announce the threat of danger. Finally, his worried bark cut over the sound of her mocking prattling with command. "Tsukiyo, run!"

Neirah whirled with alarm on her face to the sound of distress, and her heart started to race with uncertainty. "What's wrong?!"

Misaki growled in response to the pressure of the palm on his shoulder, ready to attack his pursuer. He wasn't going to be the prey again. He ground his teeth, balling his burning fist and throwing it over his collar with a fierce howl of defiance. "Let. GO!"

His expression dropped the moment the flames engulfing his fist extinguished when a steady hand folded over his assault with an amused snort.

"Not bad, I guess. Your reaction time could use a little work, though."

"E-eh?! Mikoto-san!?" Misaki's face ignited with bashful frenzy as he scrambled away from where Tatara began to laugh at the spectacle. "W-what are you doing here?! I was just- I mean, we-"

Mikoto's even expression remained locked on the pair as he raised his phone and wagged it in their faces. "Were supposed to be back at the bar by now," he rumbled. "So, date's over kiddies. Come on. We're gonna be late."

Misaki paled as quickly as he'd coloured. "T-this isn't a date!" He watched in dismay as Anna and Tatara passed him by to the sound of Tatara's musical laughter. In his defence, he pointed towards Tatara to encourage his aid. "Totsuka-san, tell him!"

After Anna had taken a moment to pause and observe Misaki's frustration, her soft lips were uttering her admiration for his rattled shade. "Pretty."

To Misaki's dismay, Tatara flipped out his mobile and read Izumo's text to their party out loud. "His message clearly said; _make sure their date doesn't have them out past sundown and keep an eye out for that Strain_." Tatara closed his eyes over his sunny smile and flashed a disbelieving Misaki the sight of his reply. "To which I responded with, _lol k_!"

Neirah groaned as she swatted her roommate in the chest to vent her annoyance. "Would you two not," she scolded upon lowering her shades from her crown. "I just got him to start talking to me without repeating the first syllable of each word he speaks."

Ignoring Misaki's befuddled stammering, Tatara turned and scrutinized her as she passed. "Aren't those Kamamoto's sunglasses?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Misaki chased after them in alarm. "Wait! I thought you said he let you borrow them!?"

Watching the pleasant sight unfold made a mysterious observer's freckled face contort as he seethed his bitter rage. At first, he watched Neirah closely with traces of suffering on his face, but when she started to dance around Mikoto with glee, a predatory snarl was hissing between their spectator's clenched teeth. "You just have everything right how you like it, don't you, Suoh?" And he had it because he'd taken it all away from the youth who stalked their presence.

One set of long pale fingers joined his bandaged ones in raising his black hood around his pale face. With a livid scoff venting the pressure building within his chest, he spun on his heels and sank his clenched fists into the front pocket of his zip-up hoodie. "You're not gonna take her away from me too." Ardent flames flickered in his searing amber gaze beneath thick chestnut bangs and a knotted brow as he glowered into the shadowed alley he trudged. "Your ass is mine, _Red King_."

* * *

They laid out on the floor in front of him in perfect alignment, and he had counted, not once, but six times only to reach the same number each one. Saruhiko's narrow leer pierced the sight and started to piece together the reports of missing artifacts. First, Tatara mentioned that Neirah was beginning to horde some of his belongings in her room. Then, Dewa's hat spent more time on her head than his. Shortly after, Rikio reported his sunglasses missing around the same time he heard Yō and Masaomi complain that their lighter was absent.

And he sat cross-legged on his apartment floor glowering at an incomplete stock of throwing knives, realizing that the answer was all too apparent. With a bitter sneer, he rolled to his feet and stormed out of the apartment on his way back to the place he'd been eager to escape. Somebody had to say something before their little kleptomaniac thought she was getting away with her antics.

By the time he reached the bar and threw the door open, their gathering had returned. He almost felt uncomfortable as their eyes fell on his heaving chest while he panted to steady rushed and furious breaths. That was when her bright blue eyes turned to face him over the brim of her teacup, and his teeth snapped shut to meet with such deceitful innocence. His words were coarse and pressured through grit teeth as he snarled them. "Give it back."

_Ehn?_ From where he sat next to Neirah, Misaki shifted his gaze from his friend to where Saruhiko's heated glower pierced the woman by his side. "You mean Tsukiyo?" he mumbled around the straw of his smoothie. "Sure. I guess you can have her."

Saruhiko rushed towards the pair without justifying his uninformed friend with a response. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" he growled. "Trust me, princess, you're not _that_ good." His gaze didn't drop as he watched her casual vacancy follow the thrust of his upturned palm between them like he was expecting her to fill it. "Return it now, and I won't break your arm."

Misaki immediately leapt to his feet in Neirah's defence. "What the hell, Saru!? You can't just threaten a girl like that!"

She wasn't a girl; she was a thief. "Stay out of this!" he sneered.

The pair flinched when Neirah interrupted their clamour by standing and lifting one of her feet flat onto the bar. Her demeanour was still tranquil, but there was a heated challenge in her eyes as she pressured her toes into the wood and traced her thigh with her fingers. In one swift motion, she slipped her fingers under her spandex shorts and withdrew the sleek throwing dart from beneath. Both men looked utterly mortified as she tipped the blade to her chin, tapping it against her devious smirk. "Is this what you're after?" She flopped the knife's handle towards him with a wry grin. "And before you gloat about figuring me out, I've had this for nearly a week."

One of Misaki's brows twitched in disbelief. "W-where were you-?"

With a livid growl, Saruhiko lurched forward and snatched his knife back. "Idiot, you just watched her pull it out of her shorts."

"Hey! It happened really fast, okay!?" Misaki barked through his embarrassment.

Neirah shrugged casually to dismiss his fury in front of prying eyes that were starting to take notice of their altercation. "Your knives are so much sleeker than mine. They're easier to conceal beneath tight clothing."

Saruhiko groaned and wiped the blade down in the front of his shirt, his heated glare locked on hers as she challenged his knowledge. "And the rest of it."

Misaki gave the scarcely clothed woman a bashful once over while he tried to figure out what else she could be concealing. "Rest of it?!"

Neirah noticed Misaki flustering between them as they stared each other down, but she didn't know why she ever posed the challenge. Saruhiko wasn't intimidated by her passion in the slightest, so she was the first to bow her head and concede defeat. "Very perceptive of you."

From where the room had hushed and began to pay attention to their exchange, Neirah popped her wrist back in front of her face. With a faint grin, she slid her fingers beneath the armband containing her music player and pulled out a silver Zippo. Without turning their way, she tossed the gadget over her shoulder, where Yō dove across their table to collect it.

Next, she peeled Rikio's sunglasses out of her cleavage and lowered them across her torso before flicking her wrist and sending them into her fidgeting friend.

Rikio straightened and unfolded the frames to verify that they were his. "Ah! I was wondering where these were! Where'd you find them, Nē-chan?"

Izumo leaned one arm on the top of his bar with a wry, unimpressed look on his face. "Causing trouble again, Little Lion?"

Meeting Saruhiko's gaze was one thing, but when the man tipped his chin towards their superior, she began to fidget. With a gentle sigh, Neirah picked the silver pen from her sock and gently tucked it into Izumo's breast pocket. "I haven't the slightest what you're talking about…" When she noticed her king grunting in dismay to the loss of his smokes, she diverted her blushing expression away from Izumo's disbelieving stare as she pulled out a new package of cigarettes from her pocket.

Misaki immediately threw his hands into his hair in utter disbelief. "What the f-?! I thought that was your phone?!"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko watched Mikoto catch the package, but that left Neirah in a difficult predicament. In a way, he felt vindicated. With a gratified snort, he turned away to dismiss their prying and made his exit while playing with his reclaimed knife between his fingers. "I'm satisfied."

Neirah flinched when she caught the sight of Izumo's prying gaze in her peripherals. Shortly after Mikoto had removed the cellophane from his package and pinched a new light between his teeth, he did the same.

"Well?" Izumo's gaze narrowed on her petulantly. "Got anything to say for yourself?"

Neirah's fleeting gaze fluttered between incredulous leers, and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Finally, after significant consideration, she threw her finger out to point towards Yō, her gaze silently begging his forgiveness as she pitched him under Saruhiko's metaphorical bus. "Chitose-kun started it."

Yō coughed out his drink all over an instantly furious Masaomi. "Tsukiyo, what the hell!?"


	11. Keepsake

**Keepsake**

* * *

**_July 28th, 2009 1:24 pm_**

With a sigh fatigued enough to hint that _he_ may have been the one working for the last hour, Rikio dusted his forearm over his brow and fanned the front of the t-shirt he wore that was far too large for his summer physique. "Thanks for all your help, Nē-chan. I honestly thought that thing would never run." He tilted his gentle brown gaze towards where she had justifiably mimicked his attempt to beat the heat as they walked down the bustling street. "Totsuka-san's right. You're pretty talented with this sort of thing. Have you ever thought of doing it for a living?"

There was apprehension in her mousy azure gaze as she peeked up at him from beneath her brow. She almost seemed less confident connecting her gaze with anyone when it wasn't from behind the protection of her wild bangs. She blamed her uncertainty on the fact that they were pushed back behind her leather headband, so she quickly pulled the garment off to release them over her damp brow. "Please be serious," she teased him brightly. "Kusanagi-san would be devastated if I ended up fixing motorcycles and air conditioning units as a career."

Rikio cocked his head to one side, letting his hair sweep against his cheeks as his expression noted his confusion. "You say that, but he got you into that new school, right? Isn't that what he expects?"

As her gaze wandered, it grew progressively less sure. "That's true. He did." Even though her admittance was genuine, she still had doubts. "But I think he'd like it if I decided to be something fancy like a doctor or a lawyer. He has incredibly high expectations of me."

"Nē-chan is being modest." Rikio's laugh started low but accelerated for every moment he considered how entertaining the thought was. "But I don't know if Japan's legal system is ready for your version of _diplomacy_."

She twisted and leaned into the wicked beam she offered him. "You mean, _diplomacy you can feel_?"

"That's the one." His amused snigger humbled fondly. "It's not that I don't believe in you but, I somehow don't see you enjoying that very much. I think you're much better here with us."

Her grin was warm with tenderness but held a slight menace when she diverted it. "You're just saying that because you're still figuring out how to do maintenance on your motorcycle."

He quickly turned his disappointed expression to face her again. "Oi, don't be mean," he whined. "You know I'm pretty new to this." Settling by her side, his smile flashed sincerely to consider their newest venture. "That day I helped you fix Kusanagi-san's dishwasher was kinda fun. It was interesting working with that kind of thing, so I thought this might be a cool project."

Neirah's expression dropped dryly, and she refused to connect their gazes as she spoke. "Kamamoto-kun? If you were anyone other than you, I would caution you not to set vehicles on _fire_."

"I didn't know it would have power!"

She quickly lowered her gaze and folded her hands like she was miming the boxed sides of the battery used to power the vehicle's systems. "You know that little black box with the plus sign and the minus sign-"

Rikio dropped his head in defeat. "Nē-chan is the worst…" He startled alertly, opening his eyes when he felt the pressure of her leaning against his arm and clutching it to her front. She didn't have to apologize. He knew that she didn't mean it. Instead of wasting time with words that didn't need to be said, he smiled back at her and voiced his inquiry. "How did you get so good at this type of thing anyway? It doesn't seem like something most girls are interested in."

Rolling out of the embrace, she additionally rolled her eyes in mockery of his statement. "Yes, because fire and _murder_ are also things on our minds as we play house with our dolls."

"E-eh! I didn't mean it like that!"

She quickly bounced up on her toes and gave his brow a teasing flick. "Baka. If _I_ were anyone other than who _I_ am, I might've been insulted."

Rikio rubbed his nape sheepishly. "S-sorry, Nē-chan."

She couldn't help delighting in every smile they shared, and her fondness flooded her cheeks in girly shades of pink. She still enjoyed spending time with Rikio when she could pry him away from Misaki's hip. In a way, she was just as enthusiastic about his new ride as he was. It gave them something to do together.

"Papa had one." Because of the shift in the pressure of their conversation, Neirah tried to remain as light as possible, so Rikio's guilt wouldn't dampen his spirits. "He never took me out on it, but I would pretend I was riding it sometimes when he was sleeping. He drank a lot, so that was often." She lowered her voice, reminiscing on her younger days before she moved to Shizume City to live with her aunt. "I bet he and momma spent a lot of time on it together."

Rikio shifted closer to her, his fingers dangling from his raised palm like his instinct was to comfort her even though she didn't seem like she needed the support. "Hey, Neirah? I'm sorry for bringin' it up…"

"It's fine," she assured him cheerfully. "I never knew my mother, so it's hard to miss her." She rocked her head from side to side like she was listening to a song with a steady beat. Tatara was right. It didn't do her any good to dwell on a troubled past, so she focused on embracing it instead. It made her who she was that day, brought her to where she stood next to a cherished friend. "Even the guilt isn't as bad as it used to be. My aunt says that mamma was always pretty sick, but my parents really wanted a child. She knew the risks, and I guess that makes me the outcome." Her expression warmed with familiarity even though she'd never laid eyes on the woman in person. "I bet my mother was very brave…"

Rikio clumsily retracted his touch. "That doesn't make you sad…?"

"A lot of things make me sad," she admitted softly. "But I guess I've learned how to face it with a smile." She turned her fond beam towards her associate kindly. "It's probably Tat-chan's fault that I seem so insensitive."

To her encouraging smile, Rikio's expression warmed in reciprocation. "Not insensitive," he encouraged warmly. "Brave, just like your mom."

As she watched her feet move beneath her against the sidewalk, her skin warmed and smile broadened. It was a nice thought to consider. It was true that she never met her mother, but something about hearing Rikio suggest that they were alike made her feel closer to the woman. Maybe she knew more about her than she thought just by looking into her heart. It made her wonder if it was possible to miss someone that you'd never met. "That would be a nice memento."

Rikio grinned at her with gentle fondness. It still amazed him to consider how their tiger lily had bloomed since the day they'd met her. She had been so sheltered and timid when it came to relationships, but ever since she'd joined with them, things had changed. Her happiness was almost as contagious as Tatara's, so he couldn't help but reciprocate her positivity.

"How about this," he suggested eagerly. "As soon as we get the bike fixed up, we'll go for a long cruise. Just the two of us. How does that sound?"

Neirah turned her energetic smile to beam bashful affection his way. "It sounds like Kamamoto-kun is even more charming in the summertime."

He laughed awkwardly and diverted his embarrassed expression. "Y-yeah? You think so?"

She tilted prying eyes away from his fluster with a kind smile. "It's a date."

His features softened again as he considered her playful mood. It seemed like it would be hard to dampen her spirits as she was. "Speaking of mementos, have you thought about calling him back yet?" Rikio watched her nervously when he addressed the situation with such a bold inquiry, but he didn't hide from the support he felt he needed to offer her. "You know, you're kind of the only one he has left of her, too, don't you think?"

Neirah seemed to falter in her trek, her breath catching as she slowly pulled her phone from her rear jean pocket to consider how many missed calls she'd received from her father recently. "You mean Papa?" Her expression seemed to dim as he nodded his encouragement. "I think about it sometimes." Quietly sliding her phone into her pocket, she replaced her confident smile. "But then I remember that he's from another world, the one where my touch still ruins everything. My aunt has been so much better since I left, and if he's contacting me, he's probably sobering up. I don't want to interfere with something like that."

Something about the sadness still present in her optimistic tone had his spirits shaken. "What about Okazaki?" he instigated quietly. "He's from that other world you talk about, and you still see him. If that's how you really feel, shouldn't you ignore him too?"

A faint groan filled her chest with impatience. "Everybody needs to forget Okazaki-san exists."

Rikio pushed towards her with worry on his sombre expression. "I'm serious, Neirah! I think he's really bad news!"

"Because he brought me flowers and held the door open at the restaurant-? Kamamoto-kun, please."

"I'm just sayin'…"

She laughed off his concern and gave his dampened spirit a playful nudge. She skipped ahead of him and bent at her hips, pointing her index finger at the side of one nostril. "Hey, I'm thinking of getting my nose pierced." She ignored how confused he seemed to be with how abruptly she'd altered their conversation's trajectory. "Would you like to tag along to see Ōta-san? He'll probably be making lunch soon~ Maybe we can convince him to share while we wait for him to have time."

"Another one?" Rikio prompted apprehensively. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of an appetite for their friend's delicious culinary masterpieces, so it was easier for him to see the conflict waiting to arise if he obliged her. He took a suspicious look around them like he was anticipating interference. "I thought you were worried about what Kusanagi-san thought?"

She flashed him a playful wink. "Last one, I promise."

"If you say so…"

* * *

"You're making a stupid face."

Misaki yelped, unsure of when he had lost track of his thoughts and managed to forget that he wasn't alone in the notoriously renowned bar HOMRA. With guilt urging him to rush out a response, he made the best, and possibly clumsiest, attempt at justifying his vacancy to Saruhiko beside him. "Face? I wasn't making a face! I mean, I have a face, yeah, but who doesn't?!"

_Tsk_. After rolling his eyes from the sight of his friend lighting up like an ambulance siren, Saruhiko took a moment to observe the relatively quiet bar around them. Business had been slow that day, and even their fellow clansmen seemed to have better things to do than loiter around the establishment. He had to admit that it was kind of nice not having Rikio buzzing around their conversation, for once. "You know, Misaki," he started sardonically. "I can't help but notice that since your little date with Tsukiyo, you've been a little on edge."

Misaki didn't like the sarcastic tone of his friend's voice mixed with hints of jealousy and spite. "Eh? What brought that on all of a sudden?"

Narrowing his suspicious leer, Saruhiko turned his crooked grin towards his companion. "Aren't you going to tell me that it wasn't a date?"

Strangely enough, as Misaki considered his friend's instigating statement, he didn't seem to rattle like he had many times before to be wrongly accused. He supposed that a part of him expected his intelligent best friend to be capable of reading the situation better than that. "Wait a sec, are you _trying_ to get me goin'?"

With a dull snort, Saruhiko diverted his attention and tried to pretend that Misaki wasn't more interesting when he was battling some form of turmoil. "Don't be stupid. Your face is stupid enough when you're thinking about her."

Groaning his frustration, Misaki folded his arms on the bar and laid his face in their crevice. "How could you tell I was thinkin' about Tsukiyo?"

It almost frustrated him to be right. Flashing the disappointed man an irritated side-glance, Saruhiko meditated on his programed response before the sarcasm flowed as naturally as venom from a snake's fangs. "Gonna ask stupid questions now too?"

Misaki's grip on his upper arms tightened as his brow creased with disdain. "Yeah, okay I get it. I'm stupid. Get off my back, would ya?"

Something was bugging Saruhiko about how complacent his friend was while being teased. Normally he'd rile far easier and provide at least ten minutes of heated banter. Whatever had gotten Misaki down after his meeting with Neirah had carried enough weight to keep his flighty spirit grounded, and that intrigued his persistent companion. "What the hell's the matter with you, anyway? You're acting damn mopey."

When Saruhiko asked the question so bluntly, Misaki's expression dropped. He had noticed. Although less than eloquently, Saruhiko knew when something was bothering his friend. "Hey, Saru?" When Saruhiko hadn't done more than grunt his acknowledgment, Misaki pressed with his interrogation. "If you were upset and you needed my help, you'd tell me, right?"

Saruhiko's incredulous gaze narrowed to thin slits. "What?"

_'Is it really okay to talk about her feelings with someone else?'_ Misaki tipped his peripheral gaze towards his prying friend and carefully considered involving him. _'I mean, it's just Saru, right?'_ She came to him for help, and something about that made him feel important to her. It was no secret that he wasn't the sharpest of her clanmates, but when it came to reading people, he was usually pretty good at that. However, he was still clumsy when it came to her. He continued to struggle, trying desperately to figure out a woman who was probably easier to read than he was giving her credit for. But he had rushed his response, hoping that it would comfort her. Unfortunately, she was too smart to brush off, and a part of him had known that all along. He wasn't going to make the same embarrassing mistake twice.

Saruhiko grew impatient as he waited for Misaki to justify his outlandish interrogation. "Earth to Yata."

Misaki recoiled and felt his temperature rise, not quite enough to colour his cheeks, but he was certainly uncomfortable with the topic he was about to broach. "Well, like everyone has good days and bad days. But if you ever really needed me, you'd just tell me that, right?" When Saruhiko hadn't responded right away, he quickly rushed out his justification. "I-I'm asking for a friend."

Saruhiko's tone flattened. "Is that friend Tsukiyo?"

Coming to life, Misaki raised his head from the bar and turned his fiery passion toward his indifferent cohort. "Alright, fine. It is, okay?!" He hoped Saruhiko was pleased with himself for causing an outburst because he could finally feel colour flooding his face. "Look, she asked me something the other day, and I'm trying to help her out. I didn't have a great answer for her then, but if I think about it enough, I might still be able to give her some useful advice by the time she gets back."

A curious grimace tightened Saruhiko's analytical expression, and his blue eyes sparkled with intrigue. "_You_? Give _Tsukiyo_ advice?" He began to snigger lightly to mock Misaki's efforts. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were interested in her."

"S-so!?" Misaki barked impatiently in rebuttal. "She's my friend, and she's kind of interesting, so yeah, I wanna help her if I can." A low growl caught in his throat to have to defend his logic more avidly than usual just because Neirah was a woman. "Guys can be friends with girls, too, y' know."

Saruhiko's expression brightened with delight as he watched Misaki defend his intentions. "Ah, but do _you_?"

Izumo turned just in time to catch the sight of Misaki assaulting his friend by fisting his hands in Saruhiko's collar and shaking him senselessly. In response, Saruhiko let his head bob freely until he was dizzy, but he didn't stop cackling and mocking his companion.

"Stupid monkey! Cut that out!"

Saruhiko's tone deadpanned. "But what would Mikoto-san say, I wonder?"

"L-leave Mikoto-san out of this!"

A low chuckle buzzed across the bar as Izumo listened to their banter. He was glad that Tatara wasn't the only one with outlandish suspicions trying to interfere with their hunter's non-existent love life. Sometimes he worried that Tatara felt like the odd man out. It wasn't easy to have a mature woman tender footing around a bunch of men all the time, but a part of him considered that their experience with her would be transferable when their beautiful young princess faced the same challenges. "Never a dull day," he murmured fondly.

In the corner of his eye, Izumo caught the sight of Mikoto raising his attention from the edge of the bar where he'd been casually watching Anna play with a series of red marbles. At first, he thought that he had been the reason their king diverted like a meerkat on high-alert for predators. That was when Izumo noticed a long shadow stretching out in the bar's doorway that they'd propped open that afternoon to aid in airflow. For whatever reason, the tension in the room grew palpable when the first boot struck the floorboards.

He tried to keep an open mind, ignoring the way Mikoto's body tensed as the young man strode towards the bar with a charcoal hood draped over his ginger head of hair. But when the fleeting amber glower of their guest met with the eyes of the Red King, Izumo felt a chill from his ears to the tips of his toes that late July afternoon.

Hoping that the uncertainty would subside, Izumo leaned his hands flat on the bar and offered their visitor a pleasant smile. "Afternoon," he greeted pleasantly. "Welcome to bar HOMRA."

To hear the phoney tone of their king's second-in-command force its way through grit teeth, Misaki released Saruhiko so that the pair could examine their mysterious visitor. They'd felt it too. The instantaneous unrest of their leader had all of them on edge as the young man offered himself a seat at the bar like he couldn't comprehend the animosity brewing.

As soon as Misaki's grip went lax in Saruhiko's collar, his eyes widened to the sight of their visitor removing his hood. Nothing about that should have seemed suspicious. Even the slightly menacing grin on his face pinching an unlit cigarette between his teeth wasn't necessarily unnerving. What truly made Misaki shudder was the fact that the man taking a seat at their base of operations lowered his hood with a right arm bandaged from his fingertips to where his wrist vanished beneath his clothing.

Anna's lips parted as she watched the flames flicker in Mikoto's fixed stare, and the intensity caused her to turn her curious gaze on their guest. She didn't seem outwardly startled, but her heart did begin to flutter in her chest as she quietly held one of her beads up to her face to observe the intrusion. "Onē-san…"

Tatara shifted his sights on the child apprehensively, his once-bright smile fading to consider the Strain's gentle warning. "Anna-chan, what do you see?" His heart sank when the girl lowered her fidgeting hands into her skirt and remained quiet in the presence of their company. It wasn't like the girl to hide what was on her mind, but whatever it was, it seemed to involve their absent lioness.

From the centre of the bar, sharp yellow-ochre eyes observed his surroundings, taking into consideration how few of the Red Clan lingered that day in the cozy bar with their king. There were a couple of familiar faces among them, though. He most certainly recognized the one to do nothing to conceal his bitter fury, and when his lethal glower met with Misaki's, his crooked beam broadened around his lifeless smoke.

"What can I get for ya?" Izumo knew immediately by the way the man's gaze lingered on their vanguard that something wasn't right, so he did his best to keep their guest's attention while the situation played out. The last thing he wanted was an all-out brawl to break out.

A dull chortle rumbled in the man's broad chest as he reached up with his bandaged hand and picked the cigarette from between his teeth. "Got a light?" A gratified growl of approval cut the silence as he leaned into the flame that Izumo triggered from the other side of the bar. He touched the cigarette to the fire without a second thought, even as he watched the veins at the top of Izumo's hand rise with tension. His mockery was complete when his smile broadened, and he sat back to the musical sound of Izumo retracting his offering. "And a name?"

Izumo didn't know why the question seemed so suspicious. Perhaps it was the foreboding that followed their guest upon their entry, but something urged him to consider that the man sitting at his bar knew precisely where he was and who they were. The most disturbing part was the calculated undertone of the few moments their visitor had spent in the establishment. He seemed to be posturing like he wanted them to know he was far from ignorant and even further from afraid. "Kusanagi." He stated his words through a false smile and didn't encourage the conversation to go any further.

Regardless of whether Izumo willed it, his customer hadn't finished speaking. "Tetsuko," he casually revealed. He took a long drag of his smoke and gave the bar another satisfied scan, continuing through a soft, drawn-out drawl. "Tetsuko Tomaya." There was still heat burning behind his golden leer when he returned it to the bartender. "Pretty nice place ya got here."

From where Mikoto was observing Tomaya's conversation with his second, he felt his blood boil with misgiving. The instincts of his flames were strong, and when they surged within him, it usually meant the person presented was no good. It was in moments like those that his iron-will faced a test because there were times when he felt that it didn't matter how thick the walls were. If his blaze wanted to rage out of control, there was only so much he could do to keep it down. "Totsuka."

Tatara felt unnerved to suddenly hear the sound of restrained fury in his king's rough tone, but he didn't dare question his command when he uttered it so strictly. "Yes, King?"

From where he remained just down the bar, Tomaya's gratified leer caught Mikoto's eye and encouraged confrontation to rear its ugly head. He was mocking them. Mikoto could feel Tatara's nerve tremble when he tightened his fist against the top of the bar like he was preparing to lash out. "Take Anna upstairs."

Even as Tatara obeyed, he had his doubts, and whatever Anna had seen made her want to stay by Mikoto's side. "Come, Anna," he gently encouraged. "I'm sure it'll all work out."

"Mikoto," she whimpered fretfully.

Mikoto nodded his head to reassure the pair making their way out of sight. The last thing he wanted was for harm to come to a little girl from a power struggle between supernatural beings. He'd never laid eyes on the man before, but it was evident that Tomaya knew exactly who he was belittling into a blind rage.

On the opposing side of Tomaya's perch, Misaki could consciously feel every part of his body preparing to lurch to life because of the tension his presence encouraged. It was him, and he was sure of it, the Strain from the night he went to rescue their hunter. It was the way he flaunted his conceit, and the bandages on his right side nearly confirmed it. "That's him. That's the guy…" He took a step forward, his aura flickering over his white-knuckled fist in preparation to attack, but he stilled under the impact of his king's gaze. He faltered, communicating silently with the leader who subliminally encouraged him to stand down while Izumo tactfully handled their unexpected visitor.

Izumo leaned both palms flat on the bar, opening himself up like he would for any customer, and making sure that this one knew he didn't feel threatened in the least. "Looks like your arm's pretty messed up," he droned curiously. "Here to drink away the pain?"

Tomaya's confident smirk didn't fade as he locked his predatory gaze with Izumo's. "You could say that," he instigated dryly.

"Mind if I ask what happened?"

The Strain almost seemed to exhibit more amusement to Izumo's act. "Played with fire." He could feel the entire room tremble with the need to tear him apart as he inhaled deeply on the cigarette between his teeth, exhaling with his profound retort. "Got burnt." He moved to dab his smoke out on top of the polished rosewood bar top only to meet with the pressure of Izumo's palm, interrupting him halfway. He watched the bartender posture, keeping his friendly smile on his face without flinching to the feeling of the burning end smoking out in the centre of his palm.

Letting something akin to chuckling sound in the distance between them as he closed his fist around the butt, Izumo settled casually and offered the man a knowing smile. "You better be careful, _friend_," he encouraged him falsely. His brown eyes locked with his guests to convey a subliminal caution of his own. "That fire can be a dangerous thing."

Misaki's face began to ache for bearing the pressure of his strain in his locked jaw. "That bastard," he muttered under his breath. "How dare he make a fool of Mikoto-san like this." He shifted like he might have gone on the offensive when Saruhiko's grip firmly locked on his forearm. Catching notice, he quickly turned his attention to his conflicted ally. "Fushimi?"

"Don't." His instruction was as absolute as the look in their king's eyes. "They obviously know what's going on, so don't interfere. Just let Kusanagi-san handle this."

Misaki lingered, but he turned his furious scowl back on Tomaya. "But, he's right there." His body began to tremble, and he was sure that if his friend released him, it would act on pure adrenaline-fueled instinct. "He's got… some nerve…"

"It's not even that red," Rikio brightly announced as he stepped through the door to their base of operations. "You wouldn't even guess you'd just got it done."

As she entered the bar by Rikio's side, Neirah smiled and delicately touched her finger to the right side of her nose a couple of times to assess the pain. It didn't seem to cause much discomfort beneath the dainty stud shimmering brightly in the sun's ray. "Really? That's a relief. Here I was afraid I was going to look like a clown all day."

"I'm sure you could pull it off."

"You think so?"

As soon as the two stepped into the establishment, they felt it. The pair of clansmen stopped mid-stride like they'd both just struck the same wall of daunting pressure, warning them to turn and go the other way. Shortly after, that wall had turned and locked gazes with their bedazzled lioness.

All the humour in Neirah's tone drained with the colour in her face as a tall man turned in his seat to face her from where he slumped over Izumo's bar. His rust-coloured hair was short on the sides and long on top, leaving a substantial chunk of bangs spiked wildly to one side. Although there were dark rings on his pale, freckled face just beneath his eyes, she'd recognized the lethargic golden gaze instantaneously.

Catching the sight of Neirah's discomfort, Rikio immediately reacted like he had the day Gin threatened their pleasant lunch together. He noticed the way the man was sizing her up, and frankly, he was sick of their time with each other being constantly interrupted by men who didn't realize that she had no interest in reciprocating their affections. "Hey, Neirah?" He waited for her to tear her eyes away from their untimely guest before continuing so that she could read his hints. "You know what I just thought of? We didn't eat yet." He ignored the confusion in her gaping expression as she thought of denying that he would have the appetite for lunch in the heat. "Wanna go grab a bite?"

Noticing that Neirah didn't know how to respond to the situation at hand, Izumo intercepted to make the transition flow a little smoother than it was. "Welcome back," he interrupted strategically. He silently crossed his fingers behind the bar and prayed that she would take his bait, just this once. "Why don't you come back here and give your big brother a hand in the kitchen?"

Neirah's brow knotted as she considered their guest's bandages, and she was instantly peeling the bookmark from the centre of the story unfolding moments before their arrival. "Onii-san?" The low rumble of their visitor disrupted her nervous prattling, and her stomach began to churn. It didn't make sense, but at the same time, it made more sense than she'd anticipated. She was reeling, and her thoughts knotted as memories flooded her mind. _'No... It can't be.'_

Startling all of the tense bodies around him, Tomaya slapped his palms onto the bar with a bright smile before standing and turning to face the woman. "Nei-chan! You never told me you had a brother!?"

Misaki startled alertly to the sound of the man's address. If he was chastising her for never admitting that she had a brother, that meant that the man before them who was notably older than Neirah could only be referring to her in one way. "Nei-chan?" he murmured nervously. "B-but... only Totsuka-san calls her that."

"Keep your guard up," Saruhiko hissed under his breath as he watched the suspicious Strain approach the woman who'd just joined them. "Something's not right. Just look at Tsukiyo. She's acting strange."

It was true. Misaki saw something in Neirah's large, expressive eyes that day that he had passionately denied ever existing a couple of days prior. It was fear. She hadn't feared the man the day they'd blindly fought him in the parking garage, but she was afraid now.

"T-Tetsuko-san…?" Neirah diverted her gaze, trying desperately to scan her memory for the hope that she was wrong. Unfortunately, the proof was in the right hand that reached out to her wrapped entirely in bandages. It had been a souvenir from their most recent encounter.

"Call me Tomo, like you used to," he rumbled possessively. The light dusting of dark freckles on his light cheeks blended with the faintest of blushes as he reached out and took the long strands of hair framing her face into his wrapped fingers. He wasn't trying to hide it. "Look how long your hair's gotten. It's like you haven't cut it since the last time I saw you."

That was a lie. The last time Tomaya saw Neirah, he was trying to kill her friend, and that consideration made her face bind defensively. Her concern for the family around her scared the fear from her heart as it hardened to his threat. "Tetsuko-san, what are you doing here?"

"Mn? Friend of yours?" Izumo locked his gaze with hers to communicate his disapproval as he prepared to leap over the bar and throw the man out into the streets. "You should have told me you were expecting company. I would have put out some snacks."

Neirah wanted to tell Izumo not to bother with the big brother act. It wasn't going to work on a childhood friend who knew her past better than any of them. He knew because he was a part of it. He was her first and last friend until recently because it wasn't long after Tomaya had put his hands on her that he was falling to misfortune like everyone else.

Desperation tightened Tomaya's expression as his endearing smile started to fade. "What do you mean, _what am I doing here_?" he instigated impishly. "What are _you_ doing here? You know you're still too young to drink-"

"She works here," Izumo interrupted intensely. "And she's late for her shift."

Noticing the impatience flashing in Tomaya's gaze, Neirah quickly brushed past him and hastened to Izumo's side. "Onii-san, could I please have a word with you in the kitchen?"

Izumo didn't budge when she rounded the bar and looked up at him with pleading eyes. He didn't turn his gaze away from Tomaya's either. "You can have a word with me right here."

Neirah looked towards the doorway where Tomaya lingered and then back towards Izumo with urgency in her gaze. Conceding that he wasn't letting the Strain who encouraged her kidnap out of his sights, she tried to mask her intent. She decided to go along with the story he'd constructed in hopes of avoiding the destruction of his bar. "Well, I… haven't been well today. That's why Kamamoto-kun walked with me. I think it's the heat. I might not be able to work."

Izumo's gaze tapered to caution her that he wasn't letting her so much as consider the idea of leaving the protection of their king. "Then maybe you should go lay down. Anna's already upstairs."

Neirah nipped the inside of her lip to realize that Tomaya was growing impatient. She was running out of options. It was one thing to be faced with a dangerous Strain, but she knew that Strain better than any of them. Maybe she never knew that he had developed abilities in his later years, but she knew what he was capable of in his youth. His temper was _not_ going to take hostages a second time, and if she didn't comply in part with his ruse, bar HOMRA wouldn't exist by the time the sun had set. "No. I think I should go home and-"

"This _is_ your home."

Neirah flinched to the sound of order in his hard tone as he challenged her worrisomely. It was clear that he didn't want her putting herself at risk by leading their revealed enemies from the premises, but if something didn't happen soon, all hell was going to break loose. "Onii-chan, please," she whispered meekly. "I'll be careful. I'm sure Tetsuko-san will even walk with me in case I get sick again."

"But Neirah-!" Rikio's anxious tone cut when Izumo raised his hand to encourage his silence without tearing his eyes from Neirah's.

_I'm the bait, right? _It was clear to Izumo that Neirah knew the Strain personally, and the situation had complicated itself. It wasn't that he wanted to use her as bait, but the truth was that Neirah was like a concealed weapon, not to mention that Tomaya didn't seem to have any interest in harming her. That made him consider that there was a chance that Neirah could pry some information out of him about the drug ring that had cropped up shortly after their first altercation. Not to mention, if she was so rushed to leave, there was a chance that she understood the gravity of the situation more than they ever could.

"You have one hour."

He didn't specify what that hour was for or what would come after, but Neirah could tell by the tone of his voice that it was taking all he had not to tie her to the bar. Mikoto was equally on edge, and the thought concerned her. It was clear to her that her childhood friend had been the one set on her capture, but she couldn't imagine what for. They'd never had a falling out. One day after his parents divorced, he'd vanished from her life for nearly a decade. There were so many questions she had to ask him, and she knew she could help their king by figuring out exactly what started the whole conflict. "Thank you."

"Now that's how you get out of work," Tomaya tormented spiritedly. "Nei-chan has always been so clever."

"Don't you dare…" As he uttered his words inaudibly under his breath, Misaki watched Neirah depart next to the wily Strain with his clenched fist trembling. "Don't you fucking dare let her leave with him!" When he watched the pair disappear to the sound of Izumo's exhausted sigh, his blood began to simmer.

Izumo dropped his head, the tension bleeding from his aching body as he considered what had just happened. It was clear to him that the plot was too thick for them to challenge just yet, and he hadn't even come close to expecting their enemy to waltz into their midst and take what he pleased. Something about his audacity infuriated him. "Looks like Okazaki was the least of our worries after all," he muttered nervously.

"Don't be stupid! You're only going to make things worse!"

Izumo raised his head sharply to the sound of thundering footsteps and Saruhiko's fretful howl. When he did, he caught the sight of Misaki throwing his skateboard onto the pavement outside before storming after the pair. "Yata, what the hell do you think that's gonna accomplish?" He growled lowly and slowly shifted his attention to where Saruhiko was contemplating his next move, then, after connecting their gazes momentarily, Saruhiko scoffed lightly and chased after his friend without further encouragement. The sight didn't help Izumo's mood. "Great. What a mess this is turning out to be..."

"She just saved your ass," Mikoto interrupted evenly. "I hope you know that."

"I shouldn't have let her do that." Izumo stared vacantly into the grain of the wood on his bar bearing the tension in his hunched shoulders. "She's always on me about usin' her for bait, and then I go and pull a stunt like this." His fist clenched as he continued to fix his gaze on an alternate plane of existence. "That Strain's dangerous."

Sensing the incredible tension in his second, Mikoto quietly bowed his head with a dim grunt. They weren't sure what was going to happen in an hour, but he was ready for it. Despite the tight bind his body found itself knotted in, the flinch caused by the gentle touch of his princess encouraged him to look her way.

Tatara held Anna's shoulders with a despondent look on his face as she tugged on the hem of their king's shirt. "She watched Nei-chan leave through the window upstairs," he murmured soundly. "And I think she recognizes that Strain."

Mikoto and Izumo seemed to startle at the realization, but Mikoto was the only one to speak. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Anna seemed to fidget a bit with guilt before she finally let her gentle coo expose a devastating truth. "Tomaya is from the centre too." Her initial statement hadn't hit nearly as hard as the one to follow. "He was supposed to be the Red King."


	12. Keloid

**Keloid**

* * *

It was difficult for Neirah to focus on anything around her, so her skittish azure gaze remained fleeting and unsure while they walked in complete silence. It was quite apparent that Tomaya knew that the Red Clan was well aware he was their enemy, but she couldn't understand why he felt the need to make one with their king. Years ago, when they were young, they never fought. She always imagined that if Tomaya had never moved away, they would still be best friends to that day. They had a quiet understanding of each other; at least, they used to. Now she was struggling to understand anything about the way he acted.

Her fluttering gaze stole a peek at her tired old friend, taking his dishevelled appearance into account. He looked worn out and lifeless behind dead eyes that only seemed to sparkle when he was causing bedlam. He had always been a grumpy boy, a bit rebellious, but she would never have expected that he was the one who drew her out and attacked her friend that evening in the parking garage. She honestly never thought she'd see him again. If the circumstances were any different, she probably would have rejoiced at the familiarity. She was stronger, braver, and finally ready to invite people into her life.

Then, there were his abilities. When Tomaya was a boy, he didn't have anything of the sort. He had a brother, she recalled, that she had never met, and from what she remembered, he had relied a lot on that boy's strengths. When their family separated, each parent moving away with one son, Tomaya's world shattered. It made her consider that those scars were what helped turn him so bitter as he aged. But that still didn't explain his powers.

Realizing that they had been walking in silence for far too long, she filled herself with a confident inhale and spoke. "Tetsuko-san, it's been-"

"I told you not to call me that." His tone was flat and stubborn as he ordered her to rephrase her address. "Call me Tomo."

Neirah's brow knotted, her cheeks flooding with soft colour. "I called you that when I was a child. It would sound pretty immature now, don't you think?" She watched his stride become mechanical with the apparent tension he was harbouring in his muscles. Suddenly, his eyes started to scan the bustling street around them, and she grew uncomfortable with their isolation.

While he ignored her suggestion, she scanned to where she caught the sight of his bandaged arm. All she noticed was the small area between the sweater pocket concealing his hands and his sleeve, but it was enough to remind her that he was the enemy. He had made an enemy of HOMRA. Her impatience began to tease her senses edgy again, and she wanted answers, but what he seemed to want was to isolate her from prying eyes.

If nothing else, she wanted to find out what his turnout meant for her clan, so she surrendered to his whims. "Tomo, how did you manage to gain the abilities you have now?" She would get nowhere by avoiding the questions on the tip of her tongue, so she hoped that calling to him the way he wanted her to would soften the blow. "You weren't this way when we were kids."

Something inside him seemed to snap, and noticing that the crowd had thinned, he grabbed her arm with his bandaged hand and dragged her between buildings where only the shadows of the structures could witness their conversation.

Neirah's alarm started to urge her to respond to the situation, but she knew it was delicate. She had to remind herself regularly that if Tomaya wanted to harm her, he would have done it the night he commissioned the mafia to apprehend her. "Tomo, what-"

A startled cry filled her chest as the air rushed from her lungs the moment that she found herself backed against the brick of the shop behind her. With a soft whimper, she raised her hand to the back of her assaulted head to give it a rub. She cut her sharpening gaze his way, bitter with the realization that coasting on their past relationship wasn't going to get her anywhere. "That was unnecessary."

"Shut up," he growled bluntly. "Just shut the fuck up."

Neirah cringed to the intensity of his demand, bewildered that Tomaya could ever speak to her in such a tone. Even as he demanded silence, he didn't seem to strike up a conversation either. Instead, she watched his paranoid gaze scour the quiet alley like a stray defending the meal they prepared to devour. He acted strung out, and that alarmed her. It started to worry her that his thoughts might not have been his own.

Finally, their gazes met again, and Neirah wasn't sure that comforted her. Mixed emotions were fighting to contort Tomaya's face, something akin to relief, something a little darker, and finally, anger. That was the last thing she observed before he grabbed hold of her face and diverted it from his observation. "Owe, why are you being so rough!?"

"Don't look at me," he commanded. "Every time I fucking look at you, I see him in your eyes."

She peeked his way in her peripherals, afraid to simply let him out of her sights entirely. "What are you talking about? See who?"

Tomaya's jaw clenched when he thought about the man he wanted nothing more than to destroy. "Suoh," he growled spitefully. "Of all the places I could have found you, it was tucked up under his wing like a pathetic little bird."

People had referred to Neirah as many things, but a bird was not one of them, and her senses began to hum with the need to defend her king's name. "What exactly do you mean by that?" She tried to fight his hold on her face, but he increased his pressure to keep her from stirring any more venom from within him. "What exactly do you have against my king?"

"Your king…" There was something dangerous in his rugged tone as he sneered his words through gritted teeth. "I was supposed to be your king… But he ruined everything."

With an impatient bark, Neirah jerked her face from under his hand and connected their gazes despite his outlandish requests. She had grown too eager with his flighty demeanour, and all she wanted to do was grab hold of him to keep his attention locked on their conversation. "What on earth are you talking about?!" she demanded strictly. "Answer my question. Where did you get your abilities as a Strain!?"

Tomaya didn't show her an ounce of leniency as he barked his furious retort. "The same place my brother did back when Kagutsu died!"

Neirah's face paled, and the dizziness struck her with disbelief. "Your brother… was a Strain…?" She thought her chest would burst as he clamped his teeth on the gauze wrapped around his hand, tearing it away so she could see the damage left behind from Misaki's attack the last time they met. Her breathing started to tremble with the look in his eyes as he hiked up his sweater sleeve and slammed his wounded arm down against the brick behind her head. The damage done was irreparable, and to anyone else who had suffered such a wound, they wouldn't be able to make such a display without yelping in agony.

"One that couldn't feel pain," Tomaya snapped vehemently. "And I've got a pretty good idea that you know who I'm talking about."

Neirah's face flushed to the impact of memories, and she threw her hands up against her face to keep from retching. "G-Goya… But that can't-"

"When our parent's split, he kept dad's name. But I was there with him that day he wanted to show me just how cool the Red King was." He ground his knuckles into the stone at her back with a bitter sneer. "How cool _our_ Red King was-"

Neirah closed her eyes, shaking her head violently to deny his insinuations. "This is a huge misunderstanding."

Tomaya drew his scarred arm back and made a fist before striking the wall with enough power to crumble the brick away. "And then Suoh killed him!"

"That's not true!" All Neirah wanted to do was hit her knees and cover her head until the nightmare came to an end. She didn't know how she was going to explain herself when Tomaya was already convinced otherwise, and something was very wrong with him. It could have been narcotics. It could have been alcohol. It could have been a weakness of the mind that he couldn't overcome.

Neirah panicked. She didn't know how to help him other than to pray that, as an old friend, he still trusted her to tell him the truth. "Tomo, Mikoto-sama didn't kill Goya. He died protecting me."

"You're lying!" he refuted. "And for a guy like _him_! How can you say that with a straight face after all he's done-!?"

She felt helpless, tears stinging the backs of her wild eyes as they scanned the ground for answers. "This is all wrong," she muffled vacantly. "How did you know? How did you know that Goya called me _Little Red_? How do you know about what happened with the Yakuza?"

Tomaya's expression seemed to falter as he recalled the events to transpire during his time at the Nanakamado Research Center, where he was with the same mad doctor who had apprehended Anna. "Mizuchi told me I could do it. When Kagutsu died, and he took me in, he told me I could be the next Red King." He looked down into his scarred palm like it was a mark of his power, giving him an unsettling aura all his own. "That way, my brother could find me again."

"Find you? The blast separated you?" Neirah's brow knotted incredulously, and she shook her head. "But wait, you knew that he called me Little Red. You must have met up with him in the Nanakamado Center. I'm sure that's where they took him-"

Rage flushed Tomaya's expression as his spirit ignited. "The centre that your precious king destroyed to save that colour-blind brat!"

Neirah cocked a brow at his fervent display, and if she were a dog, her hackles would have risen as she growled out her protective retort. "What does Anna-chan have to do with any of this?"

"When the brat started to come around, Mizuchi stopped giving a shit about me," he snarled. "All Eiko ever talked about was how great the Red King was. Kagutsu was the strongest and bravest. Then Suoh showed up and started destroying everything!"

Helpless to keep from burning, Neirah leaned into his intensity in her king's defence. "Are you saying that Kagutsu was somehow a better king than Mikoto-sama? Do you even know what he was like?"

"He was everything to my brother!"

"Then why didn't he let Goya join his clan?!" she contested passionately. "He must have known that's what your brother wanted! Tetsuko-san, your brother was a good person! And when he died, he did it with the respect of _my_ Red King. He helped us during that fight, and if it weren't for him, I would have been crushed!"

Tomaya backed away from the wall, his face twisting into a disgusted grimace as he shook his head. "Not you too," he muttered flatly. "He's taken everything from me."

Neirah shook her head lightly, at first, with a look of disbelief on her face, but then the intensity increased with a powerful wave of denial. "You're absolutely wrong." She raised her head and locked her gaze with his, pleading his undivided attention as she begged him to trust her when she took his blemished hand in hers. "It's true that you've been lied to, but it's not by me," she assured him kindly. "Tomo, let me help you."

He jerked his touch away like it was toxic. "Fuck off," he snapped ardently. He straightened across the alley and shoved his thumb into the centre of his chest. "Don't you dare look down on me! I'm more powerful than your precious king could ever hope to be, and I'm gonna prove it!"

Neirah slammed her boot down, and if conflict persisted, she would fight. "Even if that were true, it's not my king's power that I follow," she corrected bluntly. "It's his heart and passion. He showed me hope and freedom that I could have never dreamed of."

With a sinister grin tugging at his bared teeth, Tomaya barked out an exaggerated laugh. "Funny, I could say the same about Mizuchi!"

"I won't let you hurt my friends," she sneered dryly. "If you won't let me help you see reason, then I can't count you among them anymore." She felt pity for the man as she stared into his wounded gaze filled with a crazed lust for power that hadn't been there before. He was unrecognizable, speaking in fragments, challenging his recollections in an attempt to justify his ends. She couldn't imagine how badly he'd suffered under the care of the tyrant who had been cruel enough to torture a young girl, but it was clear that whatever he had endured had broken his mind. He indeed remained convinced that her king was a villain.

Neirah closed her eyes with a desperate sigh as he lingered before her flashing signs of betrayal, and soon, her body burst into flame. She kept her gaze downcast as her thick lashes slowly fluttered open, and she made her best attempt to steady her aching heart. "I don't know what he did to you, but I'm sorry," she nearly whispered. "I wish I could have been there for you. But it seems like I'm probably the one to blame here."

Everything she touched fell to misfortune, and he had been no exception. It was an accident. She'd tripped over clumsy feet and almost tumbled over the edge of a bridge. If Tomaya hadn't been there to catch her, she might have struck her head on the rocky bottom and drowned that day. Shortly after the incident, his parents divorced, he separated from his brother, and his life forever altered thanks to the time he spent in the centre under Kōshi's order.

Neirah slowly raised her gaze, her body aching with restraint as she watched him size up her threat. Neither of them genuinely wanted to fight. She could see that much in his eyes. As a man confident enough to challenge her king, she could only imagine he thought his fight with her would be one-sided, but she couldn't surrender before it had begun. Tomaya had challenged her king, threatened her family, and caused harm to her friends. Not to mention, he also contained valuable information about the drug ring to spring up under his protection. That all had to come to an end, and she prepared to fight for it at that very moment. "I'm sorry…"

She wasn't sure what had startled her more, the look of impatient enthusiasm in his eyes, or the feeling of a gentle palm resting on her burning shoulder from behind her. She gasped softly, her flames extinguishing as she turned over the touch to lock her startled cerulean gaze with the hard expression on Misaki's face. Of all the people to sneak up on their altercation from the street at her back, he was probably the worst, second only to their king. "Yata?"

"Time's up," Misaki warned her soundly. Restraint was palpable in his fingertips as they tensed on her shoulder, and she could easily comprehend that he wasn't keen on encouraging her to walk away. "Kusanagi-san's waiting for you to come back."

Whirling to face where Tomaya lingered caused her heart to palpitate as he bared teeth like he was ready to strike.

"You again," Tomaya sneered vindictively. "You were there that night they collected her for me, too. What're you, her little boyfriend or something?"

Neirah's brow creased with disdain, but before she could defend their situation, Misaki's hand was crossing her body and encouraging her to fall behind him.

"N' what if I am, huh!?" Surprisingly, he was able to keep a straight face as he glared back at the riled Strain without an ounce of hesitancy in his statement. "Y' know, I'm gettin' real sick and tired of you screwing around on Mikoto-san's turf. And now you've gone and dragged Tsukiyo-san into it." He needed to remind himself that he was there to bring Neirah back, not to escalate the situation, but it may have been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. "But you and her go way back, right? I bet she'd be pretty pissed if I beat your face into the street. So why don't you just get lost."

As bemused as Neirah was that Misaki was doing such a good job restraining himself, she may have been more impressed that Tomaya hadn't lunged onto the offensive in response to the challenge. She observed the men, each of them tensed and ready to spring into action as soon as the other surrendered the first move. That was when Tomaya suddenly started to laugh, and she felt the energy in Misaki's body flinch toward releasing before he comprehended that Tomaya wasn't moving on the offensive.

Misaki's expression dropped with uncertain hesitancy as he observed the disbelieving cackling of his opponent. He refused to show the shady man his back. After a moment of listening to his hearty laughter increase in volume, his expression darkened with malice. "The hell's so funny?"

Tomaya tipped his head back with a broad and sadistic smile as he glowered down his nose at the man. "You must think I'm pretty fucking dense, don't you?" he mocked. "What the fuck makes you think I'd believe my Nei-chan would ever be into a scrawny little shit like you?"

Misaki's jaw locked around the predatory snarl he hissed out in response. "The fuck d' you just say?"

"You heard me," Tomaya muttered roguishly. "Even when we were kids, my Nei-chan-"

"Shut up!" Misaki interrupted passionately. "Don't talk about her like she's not standing right here!" He ignored the way Tomaya's expression clouded over with bloodlust. "You think I'm afraid of you?" he snarled. "Think again, shithead! The next time you show your face around here, Mikoto-san's gonna tear you apart!"

Both men startled to the fact that Neirah had reached out and gently laid her hand on Misaki's wrist. Thankfully, the tension in his fist slackened to her silent plea, and suddenly, he remembered his duty. It would do him no good to get riled enough to cause their dispute to escalate. What they needed to do was cool off. His expression momentarily softened as he forced his fury down, nearly choking on it as he hissed out a bitter scoff. "Yeah… Let's get out of here."

As soon as Neirah turned her back on Tomaya, the bitter Strain overflowed with rage. It probably didn't help his mood to face a vision of his twelve-year-old self. "Don't even think about turning your back on me, you little punk," he sneered under his breath. He braced his stance low, preparing to power towards the retreating pair when his stride was interrupted by the presence of three glowing throwing knives burying themselves into the asphalt in front of his feet. When he moved to step over their warning, the alley ignited in a brilliant burst of swelling flame.

Furious with the interruption, Tomaya scanned the alley with a lethal gaze until it came to rest on the sight of Saruhiko perched on the rooftop. If there was one person who wouldn't let the intensity of someone's deadly glower shake his resolve, it was Saruhiko, and he refused to give Tomaya the satisfaction as he covered his comrade's retreat.

"I bet you think you've won," Tomaya growled under his breath. He aggressively watched as Saruhiko scoffed and stepped away from the edge of the rooftop out of his view. There was only one way to settle the conflict that was brewing between him and the defiant Red Clan now that he had revealed himself. A showdown approached where only one king would be left standing, and in all his delusions, Tomaya was confident it would be him.

* * *

Misaki remained unusually complacent as he sat in reverse on one of the bar's chairs with his arms propped on the back to support his heavy head. It was quiet in the room that contained only a few of HOMRA's elite in a strained conference. He couldn't stop shaking, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't want to let the Strain get under his skin, but he couldn't tolerate anyone so brashly disrespecting their mighty king. It infuriated him beyond reason.

"So, that's why he's angry," Neirah calmly explained. "Mizuchi filled his head with lies while he was in the centre's custody, and now, he's completely against King-sama. From the way he was acting, I think I understand what his association with the mafia might be. He definitely wasn't in his right mind to be acting that way or saying those things. It must be how they compensate for his protection."

Her head dropped as she fidgeted with her folded hands next to Saruhiko, and as soon as she caught sight of his peripheral leer in her gaze, she stopped. "I tried to reason with him, but he's too far gone. I think he was hoping I would take his side in all of this, but I'm not sure. He's not thinking clearly, so it was difficult to get a reading on his true intentions."

Raising one hand to hitch on his hip, Izumo shoved the other through his bangs. "Good grief," he huffed out lightly. "Well, aren't you just making the best of friends recently."

Mikoto grunted indifferently and continued to consider the information presenting itself. "And he thinks I killed Goya?"

Neirah's gaze was almost sheepish as Tomaya took the fall for her blunder. "I tried to explain that Goya died trying to protect me, but he wouldn't listen to that either." She rubbed the exhaustion from her face with a soft sigh. "Eiko was Tomo's entire world. I never met him when we were younger because he was so much older than us, but he was all Tetsuko ever talked about. I can't even imagine how devastated he must have been when he found out he was dead."

She dropped her hand into her lap and raised her hard gaze towards their small conference. "I never did get a straight answer either. When Goya was in the care of SCEPTRE4, I'm sure he was held at the centre because Tetsuko ended up with the same ability as his brother. I highly doubt that happened as a direct result of the Kagutsu Crater Incident, so I'm sure Mizuchi had something to do with it. Then the night Yata and I ran into him, he called me _Little Red_. That was what Goya called me the night we met in the harbour when he came after Wolf-kun and I."

Tatara lowered his gaze from her turmoil and stared towards Anna as she sat comfortably in his lap. "But it sounds like Tetsuko thought that the only way he'd see his brother again was if he became the Red King like Kagutsu. Goya always wanted to be a part of the Red Clan, and Tetsuko must have clung to that when he was at the centre."

Neirah nodded sadly. "Then he mentioned that after Anna showed up, Mizuchi tossed him aside. But Mizuchi probably gave up on him once he realized that King-sama had already taken Kagutsu's place. That would be when he decided to move onto the vacant seat left by Habari-san."

Tatara tilted his head to the side so he could look down at Anna thoughtfully. "What do you think, Anna-chan?"

In her soft voice, Anna cooed her gentle admittance. "Tomaya wants to kill Mikoto," she started. "He believes that if he kills Mikoto, he will become the Red King."

_Tsk_. Saruhiko narrowly restrained the exhausted growl as it rose in the back of his throat. "That's a pretty ballsy attitude to have when you consider how high he had to get just to step foot on our king's turf." He diverted his gaze so that the delicate Strain among them didn't take offence to his mockery. "He'll be pretty disappointed when he realizes that it doesn't work that way," he reasoned. "Just because someone kills a king doesn't mean the slate's just going to choose them to fill the void."

"Don't say it like that!" Misaki snapped edgily. "Obviously, Tetsuko's not gonna kill Mikoto-san!"

"I didn't say that…" Saruhiko defended quietly.

"It's pretty obvious that we're dealing with someone who's not exactly playin' with a full deck, and on top of that, he's got more than one ace up his sleeve," Izumo calmly theorized. "Mizuchi's practically got him brainwashed and supercharged, but now that he's gone, there's nowhere for the kid to vent all that misplaced aggression. Even if we could convince him that Mizuchi was the true villain here, he wouldn't be able to satisfy that need for revenge. He's like a fire with nothing to burn right now, so he's lookin' for someone to take the blame."

"I tried to tell him it was my fault," Neirah murmured meekly. "But he wouldn't listen."

With a knowing sigh, Izumo leaned his hips against his bar and folded his arms over his chest. "None of this is your fault," he reprimanded her gently. "I know you probably think this has something to do with your past-"

"Even if it didn't, I still couldn't help him." She raised her hands to her gaze and looked into palms that were still shaking. "He was right in front of me after all this time, and I couldn't even tell him I missed him. All I could think about was how angry I was that he had threatened my friends." She laid her head in her hands to hide her devastation. "But he was my friend, too, once…" Her voice lowered until it was barely a whisper on her lips. "And I couldn't do anything to help him."

Neirah startled to the feeling of arms folding around her for comfort, raising her head to discover that Tatara had taken a stand behind her so he could wrap his arms around her shoulders. "Kusanagi-san is right," he softly encouraged. "This isn't your fault. You tried to be honest with him, and he wouldn't listen. You can't force someone to believe in anything they don't want to."

Izumo smirked slightly at the sentiment. "Ain't that the truth. Just how long have we been trying to tell you that you were never cursed to begin with?"

Neirah's face knotted bashfully. "At least I have proof."

In response, Izumo's gaze humbled despondently. "I'm sure he thinks he does too." He turned his gaze towards their quiet king as Mikoto focused on absorbing the situation around them. "All that's left for us to decide is how we want to deal with the fact that he all but declared war on our clan." Meeting Mikoto's gaze wasn't comforting, so he lowered it and slid it back to where he met the worry in Neirah's. "I'm sorry, Neirah, but there might be a chance that he's beyond saving."

Even if she agreed with his statement, she still found her head shaking, her fingers grasping at Tatara's comforting embrace. "First, Goya, and now Tetsuko…" Her heart began to ache with guilt. "How can I not feel like this is my fault?"

Misaki watched helplessly as Neirah's suffering became visible on her gentle expression, and he watched her through tired eyes. It was the woman that they tried to hide from him when he first joined their ranks. She was a kind person who cared deeply for her friends, even if they strayed. The scars of her past had hardened her and made her cautious, but deep down, he knew that the unstoppable force she became was all to set the world right.

Misaki lowered his gaze as Tatara leaned against her shoulder and tightened his grip around her neck.

"Don't worry. I'm sure it'll all work out in the end."

But in the end that Tatara spoke of, Misaki was the one who felt helpless. He felt terrible for challenging the misdirected Strain in the alley, realizing at that moment that it likely caused Neirah even more pain. All he wanted to do was help her, but he ended up making a mess of things, and it caused his spirits to dampen.

From where he'd been sitting on the other side of Neirah, Saruhiko's gaze dismissed the conversation at hand and focused intently on Misaki's diverted expression. The pouty vanguard had been pretty quiet since they'd returned after his heated display defending the woman he thought needed his help.

It was clear that Misaki was still struggling to figure the woman out, or more accurately, he was trying to figure out how he was going to handle fighting alongside her. He had spent a lot of time telling others not to treat her differently because she was a girl, but the only one who couldn't seem to give her space to prove herself was him. It made Saruhiko consider that Misaki's defiant attitude toward Neirah had all been a ploy to make himself believe that she was the savage everyone had made her out to be. Then, when he discovered she wasn't, he had to re-evaluate his entire approach.

Saruhiko's expression tightened in consideration of his friend's inner turmoil. At that moment, he felt selfish considering how interesting the situation had become, but he silently promised himself to pester his droopy companion about it at a later date.

"Do you think he'll try another stunt like he did today?" Izumo watched the woman with great scrutiny as alternating emotions flickered over her face with consideration. "Neirah?"

"You let me go with him today," she whispered gently. "Say it all you want, but I know I make the perfect bait."

Izumo's brow furrowed with agitation to hear her make the announcement so earnestly. "I already told you, it's not-"

"I didn't get any information tonight about the trafficking ring he's protecting," she assured him sternly. "Before we decide his fate, we need to figure out where they're operating from, and I know he knows."

Tatara released his hold on her and crouched by her seat. "Nei-chan, are you saying you want to confront him again. How will you even find him?"

Before Izumo could speak, Neirah slowly climbed to her feet with her confidence thickening her tone. "He's obviously been following me to know as much as he does. That's why it was so easy for his pawns to catch Wolf-kun and I off-guard." She raised her gaze to meet her king's, flashing the utmost certainty. "I don't need to find him. He'll find me."

As she spoke, Izumo shook his head progressively swifter to deny the very thought. "Neirah, I don't like this one bit."

"Kusanagi-san, he had at least thirty minutes with me alone before things started to get heated, and that was only because he came by here first."

Izumo put his foot down, taking a step towards her as he raised his voice in command. "No. I shouldn't have let you go the first time, and I'm not gonna let it happen again. If Yata hadn't chased after you-"

"I might have gotten more information out of him!" she countered.

Instantly noticing the look of dejection crossing Misaki's face, Saruhiko interrupted their display in his friend's defence. "You were both ready to throw down by the time we got there," he tersely broadcasted. "How did you think we found you so easily?"

"Stop helping," Neirah barked intolerantly.

For a tie break, Izumo tipped his inquisitive gaze towards where Misaki had been startled to attention by the argument. "That true, Yata-chan?"

"I-I… well, it was kinda… hard to tell-"

Saruhiko grew agitated with Misaki's vagueness. "What the hell was difficult about that? She was ten seconds from setting him on fire."

"S-shut up! I-I said I don't remember, okay?!"

"You don't remember, or it was complicated?" Izumo pried.

"Enough." The entire room stilled when Mikoto climbed to his feet, silencing their banter with his elevated rumble of command. "Let her go." Not even Izumo could disobey the order that came from his king, but his aggravation noted in the way he watched the man stuff his hands in his pockets and approach the stairs. "The kid's never let us down before, has she?" He paused in the centre of the floor to look over his shoulder at their bemused faces. "If she thinks she can figure it out, let her. We've been comin' up dry ever since our first run-in with the creep, so maybe it's time to try somethin' new." He turned away again to avoid the look of exhaustion on his second's face. "We can't chase small fry forever," he rumbled evenly. "Anna."

With a delicate gasp, the young Strain bounced out of her seat and toddled after her mighty king, turning to glance over her shoulder once in farewell before following him upstairs.

The room remained silent and still in the wake of his impatient command that sat well with very few of their gathered members. "Well," Izumo started bleakly. "King's orders, I guess. Break a leg, kid."

"But Kusanagi-san-!" Misaki was silenced immediately by the look of desperate impatience in his superior's gaze.

"That goes for you too, Yata-chan," he interjected. "Keep your nose out of it this time. If I have to listen to her bitch that you went and screwed it all up again, there'll be hell to pay."

"But I…"

Tatara smiled and rested his reassuring palm on Misaki's shoulder, understanding the conflicted youth's dilemma. "Don't worry about it," he sang spiritedly. "I'm sure you meant well."

Izumo groaned bleakly and lit himself a cigarette to help calm his nerves. "As for the rest of you, let's keep this between us. Chitose and Kamamoto would throw a fit if they found out we were letting her chase after this guy a second time."

"Good idea, Kusanagi-san," Tatara swiftly agreed. "We can back her up if she gets into trouble."

"There won't be any trouble," Neirah gently refuted. "He's confused, but he's not a bad person." Her tone softened to a near whisper. "I promise. He just wants somebody to confide in, and I must have startled him when I took King-sama's side on instinct." She raised her gaze, filled with hope as she faced their uneasy gathering. "It's alright. I can handle this on my own."

Misaki felt betrayed as he watched Neirah shift through the room and dismiss herself from the conversation. All he wanted to do was help her, but he was still unsure of what kind of help she needed or how much support was too much. He was still lost.

The way she had said that she could handle things on her own seemed to wound him. It made him wonder if she couldn't see that he was trying to be a good friend. When his gaze slowly shifted to where Saruhiko was doing his best to ignore Tatara's company, he wondered if he and Neirah weren't more alike than he initially thought.

He diverted his gaze towards the floor for a moment before Saruhiko was interrupting him with his anxious desire to turn in for the night.

"You're making that face again."

Misaki tilted his head beneath the pressure of Saruhiko's fingers when they ruffled his dishevelled mane. "She's mad at me, isn't she?"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko retracted his hand and urged his companion to stand. "Don't worry. I'm sure it'll all blow over. She sure didn't look mad when you came to her rescue."

Misaki's cheeks coloured as he sauntered through the bar next to his unconcerned companion. "Y-you don't think she took what I said seriously, d-do you?"

Saruhiko puffed out an exhausted sigh. "This is why I warned you not to say stupid things."

* * *

It never took Mikoto long to fall asleep, so once he flopped over onto the bed and closed his eyes, he expected to meet with sunlight the next time he opened them. That wasn't the case, though. He opened them almost immediately after, staring at the wall from beneath a creased brow as he considered the gentle weight sinking the mattress behind him.

He shuffled against the blankets, flopping over on his opposing side to bring his inquisitive gaze in line with his unexpected visitor. He kept his head on his pillow, one lazy eye examining her porcelain figure sitting on the side of the bed with her back facing her king. The young Strain looked deep in thought, from what little of her face he could see. Her small frame looked relaxed, but he could see the concern flashing deep in her eyes and sense her unrest. She certainly didn't seem troubled enough for him to waste the effort in sitting up.

"What's wrong?" Mikoto rumbled evenly. To anyone else, he may have sounded insensitive, but to Anna, he was more than kind enough.

"You have to fight Tomaya." Anna's words were equally as lifeless, making a conversation between the two sound awkward and mundane to anyone who didn't understand them.

Mikoto groaned softly. Shifting the sight of his one visible eye away from her shoulders, he stared dully at the light filtering through the crack in the door she'd snuck through prior. "It kinda looks that way."

Anna sat in her pyjamas, tiny fists at her sides and grasping the sheets beneath her in protest. It made a curious Mikoto's sights shift lazily back towards the gentle creature.

"You don't want me to?"

Without turning over her shoulder to look at him, she quietly shook her head to convey her disapproval.

To this, Mikoto grunted briskly and diverted his lethargic gaze a second time. There was a substantial pause between responses before his low rumble casually addressed her concern. "Okay. Then I won't." At first, his answer sounded lazy as he willingly conformed to the child's will. A long silence stole the conversation, and neither of them seemed eager to continue it. It hadn't made much difference to Mikoto either way, but if Tomaya persisted, he would have no choice but to indulge the boy's challenge. Anna must have known that, but she still asked to spare him. That meant the young Strain must have known something that the rest of them didn't.

"He's like me," Anna suddenly whispered.

Her words deepened the crease in Mikoto's brow. "How do you figure?"

"Tomaya lost everything, and he was told that Mikoto was to blame." Tomaya's deception was apparent. Both of the abused Strains carried scars from their days under Mizuchi's care, but Anna didn't believe they should suffer punishment for their misguidance. "But Mikoto was not to blame, and Tomaya should know this."

A low grunt of exasperation filled Mikoto's chest like the effort of sitting up against the bed was exhausting. Once he'd raised, he leaned his shoulders against the headboard, raising one knee to prop his forearm. "He didn't find Goya in that place after all, did he?" He didn't redirect his gaze as Anna slowly shook her head in denial. "Man, that Mizuchi was one seriously messed up guy."

"It isn't Tomaya's fault."

"No, it's not," he dryly agreed. "That's the part that bites." Mikoto's attention finally tilted when the kind girl crawled further onto the mattress, snuggling up between the pillows and her king's side. He let her slide her way under his limp arm before surrendering to her need for affection and wrapping it around her shoulder. "What if he can't see it?"

"Mikoto's red is the brightest," she assured him tenderly. "Eiko saw it too."

Mikoto's distant gaze tapered in the quiet room as he considered her words. The day Eiko died, his dream to be a part of the Red Clan died with him. They didn't know much about the previous Red King, but they did know that his following was just as passionate as Mikoto's. Eiko had carried resentment that Genji's seat ended up stolen, but in the end, he respected the replacement. What they didn't know was why. It could have been that Mikoto had proven himself Genji's equal in power, but it could have been something else, too.

"Mikoto's red can save Tomaya."

His gaze narrowed further until he could barely comprehend the silhouettes of furniture in the dark. Anna's words were hard to understand when he thought about how violent Tomaya had made him that afternoon. All he could consider was defending his clan from the impending conflict, enraged that the boy thought he could have his way without resistance. But maybe that show of unrivalled force was what the cocky youth needed to make him see that the current Red King demanded respect. It seemed strange for Mikoto to consider that Anna was suggesting violence as an answer, but it wasn't a suggestion he objected to in the slightest.

"I guess I do owe him." It still weighed heavily in his heart when he considered Eiko's desperate reach moments before his heart stopped beating. Eiko had given his life to defend a member of the clan he always dreamed of being apart of, one of Mikoto's. For that reason alone, he felt like he owed Eiko a life for the one he saved. "Anna?"

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but either way, Anna responded by turning her bright eyes towards her king's averted gaze.

"Go to sleep."


	13. Kneel

**Kneel**

* * *

**_August 3rd, 2009 1:34 am_**

A sick symphony filled the industrial sector of Shizume City that night with the percussive sound of firearms popping, the shrill ringing of glass shattering. From behind the tractor-trailer where she took cover, Neirah shimmied away from the shot that flattened the tire by her crouched hips and dusted the glass particles from her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Saburōta grow confident in the delay of shots fired from automatic weapons. When he poked his head around the edge of the kneeling truck, she was jerking him from the spray of ammunition that shattered the headlight inches from his nose.

She released his hood with a relieved sigh. "Not yet, baby," she cautioned him gently with a slow shake of her head. Her tone was calm despite her having to speak loud enough for him to hear her over the commotion. "I'd rather you not get shot today."

With a low groan, Saburōta slammed his shoulders against the side of the truck with an impatient hiss. "Damn! It's like they knew we were coming!"

Leaning to the opposing side of him, Neirah peeked between the transport and its payload to glimpse their adversary's activity. "I think you're right," she muttered. "I wonder if Tomo-" She paused, interrupting her thoughts with a weary sigh instead. "No… Even if I thought that he would stoop that low, he had no way of knowing we would make our move tonight."

Saburōta snapped forward, wringing the balled fists that were eager to lash out at their opponents. "Somebody had to rat!" He couldn't help his impatience snapping back at her indifference. "They've got the whole place on lockdown. What'd they just _guess_?!"

Through his alarmed shriek, he threw his hands over his head to protect it from the shower of fibreglass breaking away from the hood of the tuck to suffer their enemy's fire. Then, he suddenly felt the familiar tug of Neirah's hand on his collar. After climbing to her feet, she began to drag him away from the hiss of ventilating fumes escaping the damaged truck engine. Just before he got pulled to an alternate form of cover, he lurched back towards the igniting truck front to grab the cap she'd knocked from his head before the two of them were escaping the hazardous situation.

Whimpering with the effort of avoiding the ammunition curtain blanketing their battlefield, Neirah shoved her clumsy counterpart to safety before taking the time to consider where that left her. As the weapon fire became more accurate, she was relieved to feel a steady arm around her shoulders from behind her, and before she could comprehend whose it was, she was dropping against Yō's chest behind a steel shipping container.

Yō ground his teeth around his cigarette with a hostile hiss and redirected his peripherals to where they continued to face anarchy. "What kind of lowlife assholes would shoot at a defenceless woman?"

"_Excuse you_," Neirah jeered, dusting his touch away. "Who's helpless?"

"Cute," Yō sneered. "But now's not the time to act tough, Nē-chan. We're all pretty much sitting-ducks here."

Neirah sighed, wrapping her hand around his wrist, where his matching bangle opposed hers. As comforted as she was by the presence of her friends nearby, it wasn't what she needed. Slipping out of his protective embrace, she leaned against the container by his side and let her heart rate settle. Once it had, she cocked a brow and turned to observe where he had established a defensive position bent on protecting his younger clansmen, taking notice that he always seemed just a little more serious when his king wasn't around.

It wasn't that she was unappreciative, but she couldn't stand lingering without a means to ventilate the pressure binding her body, so her tone was dim with sultry intolerance as she spoke. "You're smoking at a time like this?"

After flinching in response to her reprimand, Yō tilted his gaze over his shoulder with an agitated snort. "It's not like there's anythin' else to do. They've got us completely outnumbered here."

Growing impatient herself, Neirah grabbed the stick from between Yō's teeth and tossed it on the ground, grinding it beneath the toe of her boot to extinguish it despite his vocal objection. "Chitose-kun, I don't need your kind of negativity right now."

"_My_ negativity?!" he barked intolerantly. "What the hell?! That was my last one too!"

"You're teaching Wolf-kun bad habits."

"Okay, I get it! I take it back- he's not a puppy!"

"Good," she confirmed. "Now try saying _Nē-chan, everything is going to work out_."

"Don't push it, Tsukiyo," Yō growled.

Watching Neirah blow Yō a silent kiss from the far end of the pair, Saburōta laughed awkwardly under his breath. "Ah, so this is Onē-san without Totsuka-san."

Yō grunted in consideration, cutting his attention from where Neirah twitched anxiously by his side so that he could face Saburōta. "You mean they're still not back yet? Then that means Mikoto-san-"

"That's enough out of both of you!" Neirah fumed. "King-sama is taking care of Tetsuko, so let's show him that we can handle his will without delay."

On either side of her, the boys uncertainly humbled until Yō finally spoke in agreement with Saburōta. "So, this is Tsukiyo without Totsuka-san."

"Chitose-kun? You are literal _seconds_ from maiming."

When Saruhiko watched Neirah drag her riled companion across the truck yard peppered by bullets, he took the opportunity of their foe's distraction to survey the situation from behind his cover. "It would figure. Our king went off to settle things with that Strain so that Tetsuko didn't interfere with our mission, but things seem to be just as bad as if he were here." He snorted. "At least if he were, Mikoto-san would be here too."

By his side, Misaki ground his teeth, his fingers wringing the hard surface of a length of a pipe he'd used as an improvised polearm. "That son-of-a-bitch musta told 'em we were coming!" he growled. "We should've known better than to trust him!" He knocked the end of the pole off the ground a couple of times to blow off some steam. "I don't care if Tsukiyo hates me for it. Next time I see that creep, I'm gonna kick his ass!"

_Tsk._ Saruhiko recoiled behind cover as bullets pelted the ground near to their blockade. "Don't be stupid," he interrupted evenly. "Tetsuko doesn't give a damn about what happens to the mafia. He was just using them for a cover while he sorted things out with our king."

Grinding his molars with the pressure of Saruhiko's accuracy, Misaki listened to the loud sound of weapons keeping their threat at bay. "Damn it…" He mumbled the frustrated statement at first, but when he repeated it, it was a livid roar. "Damn it! If Mikoto-san were here, these guys'd be done for!"

Saruhiko hated listening to his colleague prattle on about how great their king was, but he had to admit some truth in what the man was saying. "If only we could get close," he snarled. "They've completely barricaded themselves in."

"And they're shooting at us like crazy," Misaki added. He threw his head back and made sure he cursed loud enough for their adversaries to hear him over their assault. "Damn mafia!"

* * *

Where he stood next to Tatara's side with his hands atop Anna's shoulders, Izumo narrowed his gaze on the view laid out before the dismal quartet. All that littered the once-profitable shipyard was rubble, every structure left in ruin months prior when the Red Clan had their first significant skirmish with the Yakuza. "So, this is where he's hauled up, huh? That's depressing." Izumo stuffed one of his hands into his pocket and shifted his weight behind Anna's timid posture. "But it makes sense, I guess. This is sort of like Goya's grave."

Tatara nodded slowly and turned his gaze towards the shoulders of their calm king overlooking the vast waterfront before him. The last time they were there, a war claimed the life of someone to begin the next. "When Nei-chan met with him, she said she explained a lot, but he still couldn't accept that King wasn't responsible for his brother's death." He turned to face Izumo with a sad look in his soft brown eyes. "I know it might seem strange to say this, but I kind of feel sorry for him. He's probably still in shock after all that happened."

Izumo rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he scanned the area for their company. "Then it would only make sense that he wanted to take his revenge on Mikoto here, of all places." He redirected his attention towards their king with a quiet look of concern in his eyes. "You sure you want to do this? Everyone else is back there taking care of the mafia side of things as we speak. Is now really the time for a grudge-match?"

"Without Tetsuko around, we should be able to get the drop on them no problem," Mikoto rumbled casually. He flopped his cigarette around his mouth as he considered the seemingly vacant area around him. "It's two completely different battles."

Izumo flinched, reaching towards the skittish Strain fleeing his grasp to approach her king's side. "Anna, you should stay back," he reasoned. "Let's just let Mikoto handle this one."

_Hm?_ Mikoto dropped his gaze to the sight of Anna joining him, her pale fingers coiling around his like they intended on offering him comfort. "What is it?"

Anna didn't raise her gaze as she looked out over the desecrated battleground that remained razed since the battle to take place earlier that year. "He's waiting." Her voice was low and gentle, but her brow was slightly creased when she tapered her sights on the flat horizon as observed through her red bead. After lowering the crimson marble, her grip on her king's hand tightened moderately with worry when she locked her sights on the tall man standing in the distance with his angry eyes honed on her Red King. "Mikoto…"

With a slight grin, Mikoto reclaimed his hand from hers with a gentle nodding of his head. He dropped his palm against the girl's crown and sighed his exasperation with the effort it would take to silence their rival. "This won't take long," he reassured her confidently. "I'm just gonna show 'im what it means to be a king."

Anna seemed to brighten hopefully at his straightforward statement, her ruby eyes glowing with affection as he started to walk away from the trio to remain.

On the other hand, Izumo's gaze narrowed suspiciously to his king's vague claim. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"It's late. Take Anna home," Mikoto commanded softly. "When I'm done here, I'll go check on the others."

Unable to stop Mikoto's advance, Tatara's confidence faltered when he tore his attention from his king's shoulders to the way Tomaya was panting heavy breaths to mark his restraint. "He says that so casually." To Tatara, Tomaya looked like a wild animal, savage and ready to strike the moment he felt like he had cornered his prey. It was quite different from the beast rumoured to lay dormant inside their king. It saddened him until he slowly turned to face Izumo, the pair lingering behind the anxious girl contemplating chasing after their leader. "But Tetsuko has multiple Strain abilities, right? Shouldn't we be worried?"

Izumo dropped his gaze from Mikoto's departure to where he watched the gentle late-summer breeze rustle Anna's beautiful hair while it carried signs of the coming fall. "I'll take Anna-chan home." When he turned to meet Tatara's gaze, there was a command present. "But I want you to stay behind, Totsuka. If Tetsuko is as powerful as they say, it won't be an easy fight, and I know he won't be pullin' his punches."

Tatara's breathing hitched with uncertainty as he met Izumo's calculated hazel gaze, warning him of his true meaning. "You mean King?" Lingering hesitantly on the command, Tatara gave his head one slow nod. "Right. I'll make sure he doesn't get out of hand."

Though Anna had her theories about how the anticipated battle was going to progress, she didn't bother sharing the secrets that remained between her and her king. Instead, she turned and obediently departed the grounds with Izumo, leaving Tatara to watch as the impending battle ensued.

Typically, Mikoto wouldn't get quite so hung up on the past. Tomaya had caused their clan some problems, but after the Strain's meeting with Neirah not long before that evening, he hadn't instigated any grief. Tomaya claimed that his battle was with the Red King, but in reality, his struggle was within himself, and Mikoto had become the only means of him relieving his frustrations. As he watched Tomaya's expression tighten with every step drawing his opponent closer, Mikoto had begun to pity the man who had lost everything.

Then, Anna's gentle warning filtered his thoughts until the battle inside him began to rage. Like Eiko, Tomaya seemed to be attracted to the power displayed by Kagutsu Genji, the previous Red King. That spell ensnared the pair of boys since youth, so the conclusion Mikoto embraced was that he had been a disappointment to them. That in itself infuriated him, but it wasn't complicated to grasp. Anna had reminded Mikoto that, upon his deathbed, Eiko had respectfully reached to the mighty Red King in hopes of being honoured by his recognition. Eiko hadn't lived to see his dreams realized, but through Anna's reassurance, Mikoto hoped that Tomaya wouldn't suffer the same fate. It was time for Mikoto to show the riled youth what it meant to be a king.

Mikoto slowed to a stop about five metres from where Tomaya lingered in wait with both arms stuffed in his sweater pocket. Since the pair had found themselves out in the middle of nowhere ready to do battle, Mikoto found himself chuckling lowly at the Strain's effort to intimidate him. "You intend on fighting me with your hands in your pockets?"

Tomaya's golden irises flashed over the dark circles beneath his eyes that deepened in colour with every sleepless night to pass while he waited for his revenge. "I took care of two of your little tagalongs that way, and I don't expect to have much more difficulty with their stand-in king."

_'So, she's a tagalong now, is she?'_ Mikoto could feel the flames surging, but it didn't do much more than chase an amused snort from within him. "Is that so?"

Grinding his teeth, Tomaya hissed out a bitter snarl, his clenched fists wringing within his charcoal hoodie as he waited for the Red King to crack. "You're acting pretty cocky for a guy who's standin' off against his replacement." His words were hard and filled with spite as he all but spat them through bared teeth. "For the record, as soon as I kill you and take over your clan, the first thing I'm gonna do is get rid of that bratty little Strain."

Heaving a gruff sigh, Mikoto plucked the cigarette from his teeth and dropped it to the asphalt, smothering its smouldering remains beneath his shoe. If he had any hope in saving the man bent on revenge, he couldn't afford to remain calm. "Just because you kill me doesn't mean you're next in line for the throne, kid."

Snapping alertly to the scorn in his rival's tone, Tomaya finally withdrew his hands from his pockets so he could display wrathfully tight fists. "Who're you callin' _kid_?! You can't be much older than I am, jackass!"

Mikoto's tone flattened as the flicker of fire danced behind his hot amber glower. "It's hard to tell when you're actin' like a spoiled brat all the time."

"You think you scare me?!" Tomaya roared. "I'm ten times what you could ever be!"

Mikoto didn't falter. "Show me."

That unbreakable air of confidence had caused Tomaya to recoil. The Red King's command had come so swiftly that he'd almost interrupted the man's self-assured rant. It made Tomaya second guess his abilities for the slightest moment. "Even if you are a king, how do you expect to beat someone who can't feel pain?!"

Finally, the gentle flicker of Mikoto's aura spilled out around his shoulders as his gaze tapered lethally on his posturing foe. "I thought you were convinced that I was the one who killed your brother," he instigated dryly. "He couldn't feel pain either."

Tomaya took one step forward, but no more as he hissed his response through bared teeth. "Shut up," he barked. "Don't even think about talkin' down to me, scumbag. You're not half the king Kagutsu was." He could feel the anger choking him, making the back of his throat burn as he stared down the man who destroyed any hope that he had of seeing his brother again. "And I'm not gonna let you boss me around like you do your clan just so you can get off on the high."

The impatience inside the Red King was starting to twist his once-calm expression with malice. "I didn't ask to be king when Kagutsu died," he cautioned the Strain bluntly. "And I can't stand annoying little punks like you tearin' up my city, but I wouldn't hand the title over to you even if I could." In response to Tomaya's advance, Mikoto had taken his first posturing step forward, the flames rushing from the sole of his shoe as he rumbled his vexation. "You stomp around with enough confidence in your power to challenge kings, but you never stop to think about who you step on in the process, or why you did it in the first place."

Mikoto's gaze narrowed on the quiet man lethally. "I wanna know what you intended on doing the night you had your boys take Neirah." His next breath exuded a humid cloud in front of his lips despite his tone remaining even. "When you realized that her loyalty ran deeper than expected, how were you gonna keep her on your side? Chain her up?"

Tomaya lurched forward with a livid bark. "Leave Nei-chan out of this!"

Mikoto's deep tone elevated in a callous warning as he took another long step forward. "_You_ should've left her out of this," he thundered absolutely. "She isn't here because I forced her to serve me. She's here because chains don't work for her either, so I cut them." His lips curled into a sinister grin as Tomaya took another step back and jolted his attention towards the sky, where a brilliant crimson sword split the heavens. "I wear chains so that they don't have to," he murmured lowly. "If she was that important to you, you'd leave her alone. She's happy where she is."

Outside of his comprehension, Tomaya's brow perspired as he maintained his distance and shot his furious leer back towards the Red King. "And if I tell you to go fuck yourself?"

Mikoto's devilish smirk broadened as his body combusted, illuminated by flames that roared like wild lions defending their pride. "Then you and I are gonna have a problem."

From a distance, Tatara held his forearm by his face to defend his eyes from the light of Mikoto's brilliance. He could feel the pressure pulsing in steady waves from around where his king centred in the force. It made it easy to understand why Tomaya hadn't advanced. The boy acted like an animal, at times, but even animals possessed sharp instincts that warned them when they should feel threatened.

"Look," Mikoto barked firmly. "I'm not someone to decide what's right or wrong, but you don't have a damn clue what's goin' on around you. If you were doin' what was right by you, I could respect that." His defensive grimace tapered. "I had more respect for your brother than I do for you. The fact that someone's puppet thinks that they have any right to rule makes me sick. You can't think for yourself, yet all you can think of is yourself- You're the exact opposite of Goya."

Tomaya's body tightened until his rage had blinded him to reason, and he charged towards the man standing before him mocking his weaknesses. "You think I'm gonna let you turn this into a lecture?!" He felt the sweat tickle his face as he approached in one swift motion. The inferno combusting before him wasn't what scared him. He knew that. But even still, his fist trembled as it prepared to land the first blow for his brother's honour. "Keep my fucking brother out of this!"

Without moving any further, Mikoto flexed his might, his aura rushing from his body with enough force to knock Tomaya off his course. The Strain couldn't comprehend the way the temperature caused the fibres of his sweater to sear, but he could feel the warning in the pit of his stomach assuring him that he'd lost before the battle had begun. Instinctively, his feet stopped carrying him forward as he held up his arm to block the embers from blinding him. Smoke started to rise from his frame as the heat chewed into his structure, but he couldn't bring himself to retreat.

Soon, Tomaya shot his apprehensive eyes towards the sky, where the crimson sword of the king before him reflected a similar shape to Genji's. The last time he had seen something so utterly terrifying, he'd been a boy, and the tragedy to follow is what separated him from his brother forever. He started to shake his head, taking retreating steps backwards. "How?" he uttered bleakly beneath his breath. "Where are you getting all this power!?"

Tatara whined and stepped away from the sight himself. Even as a member of Mikoto's clan, the heat was unbearable. The Red King had barely moved, but his opponent was on the verge of retreat by the result of his sheer presence. "It's so hot…" he whimpered meekly. All he could think of as he watched the confrontation through one eye, was that he finally understood how civilians came to label Mikoto a monster. "Ah, King?"

Mikoto didn't pay any mind to the squabbling of the men around him. His mind focused on one thing only. "I wonder, would you have done the same as your brother?" he instigated deeply. "Would you have laid down your life so that she would survive? If not, can you even call yourself her friend?"

Mikoto's gaze humbled with disappointment as he watched his opponent struggle to battle the truth in his words. Tomaya's wild eyes darted between the sight of the sword, the king, the desecration around him, and he started to tremble like he was in shock. No matter how rebellious the man was, he didn't understand what he was resisting. He couldn't comprehend a world where he only knew bits and pieces. Without the Nanakamado Research Centre, he struggled to grasp the reality around him.

Even if Mikoto pitied the man, he couldn't let him off easy. Reality was a fierce beast of its own, and everyone had their way of dealing with it. So long as Tomaya found a way of coping that wouldn't disrupt Mikoto's, the king would be satisfied. "You've got a lot of thinking to do now that you know the truth, and you can throw your tantrums all you want, but the reason you didn't attack me that day at the bar, or ten minutes ago when I showed up, is because you know that you will _never_ overthrow a king."

"King, wait!" Tatara watched through trembling sights as the event unfolded, sweating profusely to the unbearable heat coming off of his leader. With an admiring sparkle in his gaze, his eyes widened to watch Tomaya drop to his knees at the Red King's feet. Soon after he had, his hands were following, and Tomaya stared into the scars on his injured hand, watching his bitter tears roll over the top of it.

Tatara lost his voice for a moment when he tried to speak, and only a moment after was the statement uttering. "N-no way…"

With quivering hands, Tomaya raked his fingertips through the loose ash beneath him like he was drawing strength from the land soaked in his brother's blood. He could feel it in his chest like the king standing before him had reached beneath his flesh and wrapped his burning hand around Tomaya's heart with his completely overwhelming presence. "I-I… won't lose… Not to you."

Through softening eyes, Mikoto let his aura dissipate, choking down his unleashed powers while he could still bring himself to manage them. "I never had any intention of fighting you, kid," he assured strictly. "Goya died to save one of mine, and I have every intention of returning the favour."

"Save me," Tomaya mock-snarled beneath his breath. "There's nothing wrong with me. You're the one-"

From where Tatara approached, he offered the distraught Strain a kind smile. "The first step in healing is admitting that you have a problem, don't you think?" He didn't recoil even as Tomaya flinched away from his nearness. In response, Tatara crouched in front of him and crossed his wrists over his knees. "Hi. I'm Totsuka Tatara, and up until recently, I thought I was the only one who called our Neirah Nei-chan." When he offered the devastated Strain his hand, he wasn't surprised when it got swatted away, but that didn't keep him from trying.

Tatara's sad expression chastened as he considered the way the troubled man continued to challenge their assurance. "She's really worried about you," he whispered. "She's blaming herself for not being able to help you."

Biting out a bitter curse, Tomaya climbed to his feet and avoided where Mikoto had begun to approach the duo. "I don't need anyone's help! Don't think that this changes anything! I'll still-"

Tatara remained squatted on the ground at Tomaya's feet with a soft expression on his face as he watched the Strain continue to struggle. "Still what? Become the next Red King?" When Mikoto had made it to his side, he finally climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. "He's right, you know. Just because you kill a king doesn't mean you automatically take their place. King had nothing to do with Kagutsu Genji's death." He lowered his voice, hopeful not to trigger their riled guest with his blunt remark. "That's probably why Mizuchi-san lost interest in you," he admitted quietly. "When the slate chose Mikoto to be the new Red King, there wasn't any room for you anymore."

"You're wrong…" The whimper was acrimonious and drowned in haggard sentiment as Tomaya choked it out. Despite the need to bark every word he spoke, there was still a crack in the unconfident man's rough voice as he refuted their words. "I know you're lying!"

Disappointedly, Tatara's expression weakened with dismay. "I think Mikoto's right," he murmured. "You know that what we're saying is true. Don't you?" Certainly, Neirah had never had a reason to lie to her friend. He kept a wary eye on the unpredictable Strain in their midst just in case he decided to snap at them. "But I don't think you're a bad person. In that way, I think you and your brother are a lot alike."

Tatara's heart ached as he watched Tomaya reach beneath his hood, tearing violently at his hair as he tried to obstruct his fretful tears. He was scared, confused and more than a little lost. "Maybe once you calm down, you can come by HOMRA, and we can talk about it some more. It might help you figure out what's been going on while you were at the centre." The episode reminded Tatara of when he had first found Neirah, and it wasn't hard to figure out how the two managed to be close in their youth. "Tetsuko? We have somewhere to be right now but, are you going to be okay-?" Tatara quickly whirled over his shoulder to the feeling of Mikoto's palm, pressuring his departure. He took one last look at the defeated Strain before conceding victory and following his lead.

Tomaya hated it, the sight of Mikoto's back departing. He was humiliated, his body wrought with the strain of merely bearing his emotions. The truth was, he had never felt fear like he did at the moment Suoh Mikoto stood mere metres away from him burning like a thousand suns. But to a man who couldn't feel pain, the force of another strength was what kept him rooted in place when all he wanted was revenge. The power he knelt to that day was undoubtedly the power of a king.

* * *

Long nails dug into Neirah's palms as she waited impatiently behind the shelter of her shared cover. She was worried about the confrontation between her king and her friend, but she couldn't regret setting up the meeting. It was true that she felt helpless to aid Tomaya in seeing the truth, but she didn't feel like she betrayed him by leaving him to her king. It did, however, anger her to think that the hostile Strain had somehow warned the mafia of their impending strike. That was the part that didn't make sense to her. Tomaya hadn't cared about the drug operation in the slightest, so it was hard to believe that he was the culprit.

"I can't take much more of this," she droned impatiently. "My muscles are burning. I need to keep moving."

"Don't even think about it," Yō grumbled under his breath. "You're not goin' anywhere until they run out of ammo, or we get a damn invitation."

"I could probably-"

"Sit. down," he barked intolerantly. "You're not sneakin' anywhere. There's too many of them, and they've got this entire lot surrounded." He scoffed bitterly, his nerves wishing she hadn't smothered his nicotine fix prematurely. "Man, you're hard to manage."

Neirah cut her tapered leer towards her edgy companion with devilish intent. "Dewa-kun would let me go."

"Are you seriously playing favourites right now!?"

Helpless to aid either side of the battle ensuing next to him, Saburōta groaned his frustration. "If only King and Kusanagi-san were here."

"Yeah!" Yō eagerly agreed. "They'd keep her in line!"

Saburōta heaved an unsteady sigh in hopes that he hadn't managed to get himself in between his feuding clanmates. "Not really what I meant..."

Lingering on Saburōta's original intentions suggesting the idea of a ranged attack creating an opening for their advance, Neirah quickly scoured the concrete yard for the only other distanced fighter in their party. When her eyes locked on the sight of Misaki popping his head up over the hood of a pale-coloured van for just long enough to come close to losing it, her heart was fluttering hopefully. _'Fushimi-san might be able to give me the opening I need.'_

She tilted her peripherals discreetly to where she observed Yō cursing under his breath while scanning their surroundings. His fingers were fidgeting with the bangle they shared since she'd put out his light. Then, her expression hardened as she tipped her gaze over her shoulder to judge the disarray of their circumstance. Before her friends could intervene, she was climbing to her feet and springing from behind the vehicle.

Saburōta instantly filled with panic, falling into Yō's lap in a failed attempt at grabbing the eager woman on her departure. "Onē-san didn't you hear what Chitose just said?!"

"That little psycho!" Yō growled lowly and picked Saburōta from his lap as he watched Neirah bolt across the asphalt. "I swear she gets crazier by the battle! Someone grab her!"

Reaching to her waistline for her chain, she began to unfurl it from around her hips and worked it skillfully between her fingers to cover the stray bullets honed on her retreat. The few scattered shots ricocheted off the links, but once more of their opponents had noticed she was on the move, they redirected their rounds towards her.

Her livid shout was shrill and filled with defiance as she dove into a rough somersault to take cover about halfway to her target, leaving her stumbling into allied forces that would bring her no closer to advance. "Oh, give me a break!" she shouted defiantly. "This was supposed to be a surprise raid! How are they so organized?!"

Near to where Neirah had begun to thump the back of her head against a shipping container repeatedly, Rikio held out his hands like he might attempt to stop her. "Ah, Nē-chan, relax a little, would ya? Hurting yourself isn't going to help."

When the hollow resonating of the contact subsided, she moaned her frustration and began to boil her tungsten chain between clammy palms. She felt like a volcano ready to erupt. The pressure was causing her throat to burn with the rise of magma from her soul. "Kamamoto-kun? I am _not_ in the mood," she commanded frigidly.

"I'm with Tsukiyo on this one," Haru chided impatiently in an unenthused tone. He turned to face the pair with his hand resting in his shaggy blonde mop of hair to support his head. "If I don't see some action soon, I'll go crazy."

"Tanaka, stop helping!" Rikio snapped.

Mikoto's ears could pick up the sounds of his clanmates cursing, conspiring, anything to advance into enemy territory. When Neirah had arranged for Tomaya and Mikoto to meet, they thought it would be the perfect time for the clans to clash. Unfortunately, the members of the mafia group opposing them seemed to have seen through their strategy.

That hadn't bothered him in the slightest as he walked through the street, setting the concrete ablaze with every step. His body was still tight with the pent-up aggression he wasn't able to vent on his challenger earlier that evening, and he was becoming impatient over the risk associated with containing it. There was a ragged rasp in his voice as he began to let it spill over, the burden building ire to watch their enemies pin his clan between rocks. "Hot…"

Most days, he didn't mind choking it down, the unbearable pressure of his powers set on clawing to the surface, but between the altercation with Tomaya and the way his clansmen ducked around unreliable cover to avoid a rain of bullets, he stopped trying._ 'It's so hot…'_

Soon, rival gang members had taken notice of his presence and flexed their threat, turning their fire on the smouldering king to approach. "It's the monster! Gun him down before he catches up with the rest of them!"

Mikoto's lethargic gaze didn't shift as he carried on his intended path, chewing impatiently on the end of his fresh cigarette as he approached. _'The flames,'_ The tension of his stress had put a crease in his brow as enemy bullets liquified near his approaching figure. _'The heat…' _His blood was searing, his sights fixed, and despite his calm façade, he could feel the raging beast within clawing at his insides with the need to have its appetite for destruction satisfied.

Nearby, Neirah flinched, following the sight of smoke rising to where her king's footsteps sizzled in the concrete. "Wait- When did King-sama arrive?" As she alerted Rikio to the like, her chest began to ache despite the grateful flutter in her heart. _'Does that mean that he defeated Tomo?'_

Rikio's spirits lifted, and he was quick to rush towards their king. "Mikoto-san!" Rikio didn't know what he was going to do to help his king when he arrived by the man casually picking the light from between his teeth, but he couldn't sit idly by. "Mikoto-san, they somehow knew we were going to attack tonight! We can't-"

"Kamamoto." Mikoto's rough rumble was filled with unspoken command as he shifted his impatient glare towards the interruption. "Stay back."

"But Mikoto-san!" Despite his need to ask his king if something was the matter, Rikio ducked out of the way of pistol fire and watched Mikoto depart towards the commotion.

Neirah's wild gaze focused on the sight of her king igniting the night with crimson flame, and her body tightened with the need to spring into action. As the skies filled with the dominant red glow marking her king's unparalleled reign, her tautness prepared to unbind. "King-sama's Sword of Damocles," she muttered distantly. Quickly climbing to her feet, Neirah fixed her posture and liberated her chain in preparation for travel. "Tanaka, stay here," she cautioned sternly. "This is my chance."

Through thick blonde bangs, Haru's cocky expression dimmed over his lacklustre smile. "Yeah, whatever. But don't expect me to be the one to deal with Kusanagi-san if you get yourself killed."

Rolling her eyes, she couldn't help but let a wry smile curl her lips. "I see you're still bitter about the day we met."

Haru shrugged. "Meh, I'm indifferent," he mocked friskily. "And when I say indifferent, I mean, I really couldn't care less."

By the truck where Neirah had left him by Yō, Saburōta was eager to announce their salvation the moment their king's sword had split the sky. "King!"

"It's about time," Yō proclaimed fondly. "Victory's as good as ours!"

Misaki was eager to celebrate the same news when he turned to face the reassuring sight of their king's triumph over Tomaya. "Hell yeah!" he cheered. It wasn't surprising that Mikoto had defeated the Strain, but he couldn't ignore the tug of relief spreading to the knowledge that his king was safe. Eager to chase after their unmatched leader, Misaki was the first to throw his arm out and signal everyone else to tread just as bravely. "Follow me, ya bastards!"

Although Saruhiko didn't take direct insult to receive orders, he still snorted his annoyance before considering chasing off after his other half.

"Fushimi-san!" Interrupting his advance, Neirah darted across the concrete, leaping when she approached the vehicle ahead. After jumping, she dusted her fingers over the bullet-scarred hood and slid her haunches across it until she could drop down next to him. Caring little about the way the jagged steel ripped into her dark denim jeans in the process, she seemed eager in spirits, at first, but then her brow quickly knotted. "Wait, wasn't Yata with you?"

She followed the sight of Saruhiko sliding his unimpressed gaze over his shoulder to redirect her attention towards his partner's reckless charge. "Take a wild guess."

With a humble smile, Neirah sighed to watch the sight of their clan bravely charging to the thundering of their rally call. "Well, I suppose it makes sense to draw confidence from your king." Focussing less on Saruhiko's perceived impatience and more on her purpose, Neirah straightened to focus her attention on her disgruntled ally. "Fushimi-san, I need your help."

Thrusting out the palm of his hand seemed to stop the projectiles rocketing his way, and with the flick of his wrist, Mikoto was firing them back towards the building his clan approached. His ears filled with the roar of his pride, the cries of their prey. He was a king, and nothing could stop him.

_'Power…'_ The ground beneath Mikoto's feet began to boil, the concrete bubbling meekly in hopes that he would show the silent plea mercy, but his intensity didn't bow once he finally had an outlet for his rage. _'It's setting my body ablaze.'_ Instead, it filled him with a sense of superiority, just knowing that his mere presence could bring powerful rivals to their knees. On that front, he could sympathize with Tomaya. Sometimes you just needed to burn.

When the bullets had started to redirect their aim in hopes of reclaiming the upper hand, Rikio stayed close to Mikoto's side. But even for a red clansman, the flames had begun to grow too fierce for him to linger. "Hot…" he whimpered hesitantly. "Mikoto-san?"

From where Tatara had lingered, he raised his fretful gaze to the sight of Mikoto's sword lingering high above their heads. It was a glorious sight and gifted their clan unimaginable power, but something about its glow that night was daunting. His breathing hitched when he caught the sight of a bright line piercing the blade like a crack, and moments after, shiny bits started to crumble away from its decorated surface.

It was a battle, one that he knew his king fought quietly every day that he carried the power of the slate. Mikoto's rage for Tomaya's ignorance was justified, and even Tatara found himself feeling a little bitter about the Strain's complete disregard for how difficult it must have been to stand in Mikoto's shoes. However, as angry as his king was, there was no need for him to become the demon he had bragged to be containing.

"King!" Tatara made sure he didn't let his uncertainty show when Mikoto jolted to face him with impatience on his violent features. Instead, Tatara raised his hand and fanned his face in hopes it might provide him with some relief from the blistering heat. "Turn it down a bit. I'm wilting over here."

With a stunned expression displaying notes of guilt, Mikoto turned away from his lively friend with a settling sigh. His heart was still racing, and his body was still scorching, but he began to tame the beast inside until it started to pace eagerly in wait for the next occasion where he needed to flex his might.

After taking a moment to simmer, Mikoto's low command broadcasted. "Burn them all."

Mikoto slowly opened his eyes the moment he heard chains rattling, the sound grating on his nerves to consider his metaphorical cage. His gaze met Neirah's for a fleeting moment, and when it did, her transitory melancholy brightened until an appreciative smile was curling her lips. Something about that calmed him.

Tatara was near to remind him to contain the monster lurking within him, but Neirah was always quick to reassure him why it was worth the effort. It wasn't what he had imagined his life would be, but he wasn't deceiving Tomaya when he said he did it for his clan. Even carrying the suspicion that her king was supposed to battle her friend until the potentially bitter end, there was still trust shining in her bright eyes. She didn't have to say anything for him to feel it.

Dusting between Mikoto and Tatara, Neirah was quick to slide to a halt and capture Rikio's attention. "Kamamoto-kun, come with me."

"What?! Where?"

She didn't glance over her shoulder as she started in the opposite direction of their clan, trusting her reliable companion to follow without question. "We're going this way."

Rikio seemed baffled by her sudden retreat. "But everyone else-"

Neirah turned her sunny smile over her shoulder with a flirtatious wink. "Don't worry about them. They can take care of themselves."

Rikio's lean expression dropped as he energetically chased after the woman in a way that he wasn't typically capable. "Well, yeah, but-"

Tatara seemed startled, at first, as the two ran off in the opposite direction of the commotion. That was when he brightened to recall the battle to transpire by the water during the winter past. Neirah, by Izumo's side, had spent a lot of time planning and strategizing, so it was cute to see signs of their interactions sticking to their resident hunter even when he couldn't be present.

To consider the similarities, he couldn't contain the delighted chuckle to tickle the back of his throat. "Sometimes, it's hard to tell that Nei-chan isn't actually Kusanagi-san's little sister." Tatara suddenly hummed his curiosity when Mikoto's attention shot to the sky with a vexed furrow in his face. At first, he looked towards his king, and then the air that had seized his regal gaze. "King? Is something the matter?"

A strange feeling knotted Mikoto's insides as he stared up at a brilliant cerulean glow flashing in the far distance over Japan. At first, he could compare it to the sixth sense that told you that you weren't alone in a dark and silent room, but then, it changed. It may have been the currently violent state he was lingering in thanks to Tomaya's outburst, but something about the glow being mistaken by most as a star made him feel small, and possibly threatened.

With the uncertain feeling tightening his chest, he tapered his gaze with the utmost scrutiny. Looking back on that night, he should have known the disturbance had been more than just a coincidence. But, he supposed that another part of him was still hopeful that someday, the power to do what he thought was right would come without chains.


	14. Kinship

**Kinship**

* * *

While she jogged, Neirah couldn't contain the cheeky grin that tugged her lips into a fiendish smirk as Rikio loyally chased after her. Even with chaos breaking out at their backs, they made their way around the opposing end of the building that housed their enemies. "I'm impressed," she began in high spirits. She laid one palm flat against a concrete partition so she could vault over it, her smile broadening as she peeked his way and watched him rush through a similar motion. "The summer you has a much better time keeping up with me."

Rikio's expression dropped as he chased through the empty parking lot after her, and he ground his teeth to bear the frustration that was colouring his cheeks. "I get this enough from Yata-san. I don't need it from Nē-chan too." He intended to sound a little more agitated with her than he did, but it would have been easier to do that if what she was saying wasn't at least partially accurate.

Drawing to a stop outside a steel door slab, Neirah let her whimsical giggle echo off its surface for a moment before considering their roadblock. "I know, I know, I'm sorry." She rushed her apology upon giving the handle in front of her a jiggle. She didn't seem obstructed to realize that it was locked, and it didn't dampen the spirit in her musical voice. "I just couldn't help myself. You know it doesn't make a difference to me."

With an exhausted sigh, Rikio stopped one step behind her and waited for further instruction, half expecting the command to be taking care of the door. "Nē-chan has too much energy tonight, and it's made her crazy."

Her grin became sinister as she laid her fingers gently against the centre of his chest to encourage him back a step. "Not for long."

Rikio threw his hands up in front of his face moments before Neirah's flaming kick pelted the locked door in front of them, sending its buckled surface into the hallways adjacent. When he lowered his defence, she was still locked in the position she used to beat in the door, her aura framing her athletic figure.

An uncertain breath wedged in his throat as he watched her smoky lashes frame a wild gaze over her triumphant beam. It was one thing for her to understand their mission, but somewhere along the lines, she'd begun to take pleasure in it. "I take it back," he prattled nervously. "Too much energy makes Nē-chan violent."

"You say that as if it comes to you as a surprise, Kamamoto-kun," she purred deviously upon lowering her leg. When she turned to face him again, the auburn waves framing her face dusted rosy cheeks as she softened her gaze for her friend. "Besides, everyone is already good and riled, so there's no need to sneak around."

He cautiously neared her side and joined her in poking their heads around the demolished frame. "I was wondering why you didn't bring Totsuka-san with you instead."

Lowering her voice, Neirah slipped through the doorway into the empty hallway with a delicate chortle. "Like I said, we don't need to be stealthy this time."

"This time?" Rikio quickly caught up to the agile steps of their hunter and watched her expression morph with an eager hunger. In his opinion, she looked the part of their savage huntress as she prowled the building like she was looking for her next meal. Taking solace in the fact that he wasn't her target, Rikio pressed the matter. "What do you mean by that?"

With her lively eyes smiling purposefully, Neirah's delighted beam broadened beneath the sparkle of bright flames flickering in her azure irises. "Do you remember our battle with the Yakuza last winter?" She threw her arm out in one sturdy swoop that caused him to stall in the instant before he had raced around a blind corner. "We're recreating my role with Tat-chan that day."

"Wait so we're-" Catching his words before completion, he fell back to the command of Neirah's forearm when she heard the elevator ding with the announcement of their company arriving.

Prattling with three other allies inside the steel box alongside him, one of the many mob members was rushing out their words before they reached their destination. "Damn it! Those brats have already got reinforcements upstairs!"

"Don't worry about it," another added in a hastened tone cracked with just as much concern. "We just need to get to the roof and-"

As soon as the elevator door burst open, the four men met with the sight of flames rolling in towards them like they'd taken a ride straight down to hell. Because she was worried about tangling her chain between them, Neirah hadn't drawn the weapon. Instead, she leapt into the fray to disarm the men as Rikio's leg swung over her head to take out the ones that she couldn't handle in an instant.

In the settling smoke, Neirah's gaze tapered as she kicked one of the men's firearms from his reach. "The roof," she reiterated sternly. "What happens on the roof?"

Rikio threw his palm against the elevator door to keep it from closing his ally in the box with their conquered rivals. "Nē-chan! There's more coming from the other side!"

She had expected that, but she didn't have time to explain herself. Instead, she slammed her heel down on the conscious man's hand and twisted it, waiting for his weak gaze to rise to face her kind smile before speaking. "My friend and I are in a hurry," she brightly mocked. "So, I would appreciate not having to repeat myself."

_'She really is quite a bit like Kusanagi-san sometimes, isn't she?'_ Rikio thought docilely.

Through his desperate howls, Neirah made out the words she needed to hear, and she turned on her heels to the sight of the company Rikio had announced. While fingers reached for the chain wrapped around her hips, a winding wall of flames like a serpent crashed into their enemies. The attack was precise, darting from one lifeforce to the next in a chain reaction rather than blindly smoking out the entire hall. It was perfectly halfway between what Izumo was capable of and the same brute force their ordinary clansmen used to overwhelm their enemies. She blinked at the vision next to her heaving partner to consider how quiet the emptied hall had become, and shortly after, Masaomi was popping into the vacant space.

Neirah's words were soft on her lips the moment Masaomi straightened his hat with his palm and turned to connect gazes with her. "Uh-oh…"

At first, Masaomi seemed to be startled by the presence of allied reinforcements. "Nē-chan? Kamamoto? When did you guys get here?"

Taking a step towards their comrade, Rikio attempted to explain a strategy that he still didn't know. "Well, it's kind of like-" Suddenly, he stopped himself and turned to face where Neirah's frantic mind had begun rethinking her approach. "Wait, what did you mean by _uh-oh_?"

In the next instant, Rikio was whimpering in alarm as Neirah grabbed his arm and tossed him into the elevator that was held by the limp bodies blocking the door from closing. The sight was slightly unnerving and caused Masaomi to reach out towards his friend like their riled assassin might have switched sides, but once he realized how absurd the consideration was, he lowered his potential aid. "Ah… I hope he's gonna be alright."

Once Neirah had kicked out the lifeless masses of flesh they had incapacitated moments prior, she poked her head out of the door and looked down the hall towards Masaomi with a deceptively cute smile. "Sorry, Dewa-kun. I'll explain later!"

To the delicate chiming of the elevator bell announcing their exit, Masaomi raised his forearm to dab his sweating brow. "Eh, yeah… Whatever you say…"

Inside the elevator, Neirah mashed her finger against the button that would take them to the highest floor of the elevator shaft they rode, and her brow knotted as she considered the weakness of her impromptu strategy. Luckily, she couldn't be embarrassed about her miscalculation if she didn't tell anybody else about it. Still, the one person who did know was probably the worst for harping on her shortcomings. "Well, today _was_ a good day."

"Ah, Nē-chan?" Rikio murmured apprehensively. "Can you tell me what the plan is, exactly?" He shuddered the moment the back of the woman's head dropped, and he raised his arms like he thought they would defend against the impatient growl filling her side of the elevator. "I-I mean if it's not too much trouble!"

"No, it makes sense," she conceded bleakly. "You can't be of much help if you don't know what I expect of you."

Rikio's posture slackened as if he'd been insulted. "That's one way to put it, I guess."

She turned to face him and straightened with a determined look in her eyes. "Remember what I said about the Yakuza? Well, that day, we caught them in a vise to counter the fact that their numbers dwarfed our own and we were able to drive their leader into a corner." Her cheeks flushed as she turned and watched the illuminated buttons flash with every floor they passed. Maybe it was selfish of her to want Tomaya's involvement off her conscience, but she considered it essential to deduce the reason for their adversary's preparedness regardless. "I thought that we could use that same strategy here to corner their evacuating elite and figure out how they knew we were going to attack tonight."

Rikio let out a startled yip when Neirah suddenly buried her face in her hands with an embarrassed howl.

"But I forgot to consider that there were multiple floors before rushing in!"

Growing braver in approaching his humiliated clanmate, Rikio flashed a gently reassuring smile and laid his hand on her shoulder to startle her out from her cover. "Hey, don't worry about it, Nē-chan. It was a great idea!"

For a moment, Neirah's face looked relieved as she smiled back at him, but when she turned to watch the buttons on the elevator continue to illuminate, her expression hardened. "Thank you. I needed that," she whispered. "Now, all that's left to do is get to the top so that we can complete the vise." She hadn't considered that their enemies would already have an escape route planned, but it didn't surprise her, given that they knew of the attack pre-emptively. "And we might as well decommission that helicopter while we-"

The pair flinched to the sudden stagnation of the lights announcing their climb, wide eyes staring at the indication that someone else was trying to join them. Realizing it was likely that other mafia members were also trying to reach their planned escape, Neirah's expression hardened.

Outside the elevator, a man scrambled to slam the _UP_ button on the wall as many times as he could to interrupt his allies' climb. "No, nono take me with you!" It seemed like the elevators were their only means of escape as the Red Clan washed through the building in a destructive wave of flame. He watched the hallway at his back in hopes that his enemies wouldn't interrupt his escape as he continued to smash the button. "Come on," he fussed frantically. "Comeoncomeoncomeon!"

Relief flashed across the man's face for just one moment to the sound of the steel slabs parting. Unfortunately, as he turned his head to dive inside, it was meeting Rikio's flaming fist. Once the mass dropped to their feet in the doorway, Neirah began to casually squish the body out of the door's track with her toe.

That was when the pair alerted to gunfire and bitter curses that marked that the floor they arrived on might have been where the bulk of the forces gathered. As Rikio stood rubbing his knuckles, his brow creased in consideration of the sounds reverberating through the hallways. "That doesn't sound good."

Cutting her deadly leer towards the movement of shadows illuminating on the walls, Neirah drew her hand to her hips and fisted her chain in her hand. "My plan can wait," she rumbled in command. It had already failed once, but she promised she wouldn't abandon her clan if they were in trouble. Her pride wasn't worth it.

Taking a step out of the elevator, Rikio raised his voice to holler after her retreating frame. "But, Neirah, what about their leader?!"

"Don't worry about that now!" she volleyed back. "I told Fushimi-san my intensions before I found you." Even as her heart raced with uncertainty, she filled with trust for her quick-witted clansman. She considered that there was a good chance Saruhiko might have found the flaw in her plan before she had, which meant that there was still a chance that he had already located the leaders of the operation unfolding. All it was going to take was one person to cut off their escape from the rooftop, and they would win.

* * *

"Get back here!" Bright crimson flames kicked up from the wheels of Misaki's skateboard as he navigated the hollow passages of the upper building levels. His hazel sights honed on the fleeing of his target, which made it easy for him to react when the man took the time to turn and pepper the hallways with his last few rounds of ammunition.

From his deep crouch, Misaki kicked up the front of his board, sending the article rocketing towards his prey to offer cover as he diverted the bullets with his steel polearm. After the man ceased fire to the clatter of an empty clip, he turned to double-check the area for corpses. It allowed Misaki to bury one end of his weapon into the centre of the hallway so that he could vault himself over his distracted opponent. Once he landed, he dropped to the floor and beat his target's legs out from beneath him with a satisfying bark.

Once the bloke was on his back and coughing to catch up with the rush of air knocked from his chest, Misaki slammed his shoe down against the man's collar and poked at his glasses with the piece of pipe he'd been carrying around with him. "That must be annoying," he pestered maliciously. "You almost made it to the top, too. Betchya thought we'd chase you all the way up, sittin' there pretty bummed out when you got away."

In response to the way his opponent trembled, Misaki let his aura spill out from around his body as he crouched next to him and began his interrogation. "Bet you're one of their leaders, huh? That's why you were hangin' out up here instead of-"

Impatient rage flashed in Misaki's focused gaze when reinforcements for his target funnelled into action from the stairway, and before he could get his answers, he was dashing in retreat to avoid the shots fired.

To the sound of weapons unloading cartridges on the spunky red clansman, Misaki's mark rolled over on his belly and covered his head. Shots continued to whiz by his ears, pelting the ceiling, the walls, everything but their intended target. "Idiots! Don't shoot!" he roared in terror. Even as the pistol fire subsided, he continued to protect his head from the rain of sparks and drywall crumbling from the peppered ceiling. The passage had grown dark with the damage the fluorescent lights had suffered. Once all had gone silent, he raised his trembling gaze to where the dim corridor flickered with surges of misdirected electrical currents in sporadic waves. "D-did… did you get him?"

Before he could be relieved that they'd scared away the threat, they heard the low clatter of wheels against the hallway leading into a shrill click announcing that their enemy had kicked up the front of his reclaimed accessory. The petrified man's wild gaze began to scan the darkness to the sound of a disgusted snort. Finally, he connected his gaze with the eerie crimson glow of a set of eyes that were narrowing their sights on the targets spread out before them. Unfortunately for their scrambled forces, the menacing glow wasn't nearly as intimidating as the crooked smirk Misaki tipped back in the next surge of electricity to illuminate the halls.

Snapping his board down in line with his opponents, Misaki worked his polearm between his fingers to get a sense of space in the thin hall. He would have to charge straight down the middle if he didn't want the pipe to end up snagged on a wall, not that he hadn't intended on doing just that in the first place. "Didn't anyone ever teach you it was rude to interrupt people when they're talking?"

Hearing the sound of weapons racking at his back, the unarmed man on the ground whirled to clamour out his worry. "Don't even think about it! At least let me get out of the way first!" Cowering beneath the wheels of the skateboard to kick up over his head, the man whimpered in fear before realizing that Misaki had passed him by entirely. _H-huh?_

Misaki's lethal glower hadn't shifted from the crowd of men staggered by his advance as he growled his low command. "I'm leavin' him to you, partner."

_Tsk._

The front-runner shuddering in the hallway centre jolted his attention to the sound of a displeased clicking coming from where Misaki had departed. In the spontaneous flicker of dying lights, Saruhiko revealed himself in lazy stride.

"M-more of them…?"

Saruhiko shifted his navy gaze around the passage lying in ruin thanks to his unruly companion. "You know, Misaki, I asked you to buy me some time to shut the elevators down, but this is a little excessive." He rolled his lethargic gaze back to where their target had been trying to figure out which way to flee when approached by villains on both sides. "Well, well. It looks like Tsukiyo was right," he casually droned. "Though, given that we're the ones here with you and not her, I doubt she even realized how right she was."

When Saruhiko watched his mark stagger to his feet in an attempt to retreat towards Misaki, he rolled his eyes with an exhausted sigh. In a way, it frustrated him to think that he would have to engage a thug in combat. It was beneath him. "Didn't you hear me?" he murmured impatiently. "The elevators have been decommissioned."

Thinking that he'd gotten the better of Misaki's distraction, their prey made his way towards the stairwell that would lead him to the rooftop where his method of escape should have been waiting. Just as he was about to throw the door open, Saruhiko had ripped his arm back and sent one of his fiery darts straight through the glass. When it connected with the wall on the opposing side, the stairwell ignited.

"Not that way," he hummed through his irritation. Saruhiko felt his wrath swell as he watched his target dash in the opposite direction into one of the many rooms on the floor like he knew where he was going. Unfortunately, Misaki had caught the same sight upon the conclusion of his battle.

"Saruhiko! What's the big idea lettin' him get away like that?!"

To avoid the index finger Misaki jabbed in his face, Saruhiko craned his head to one side with a displeased groan. "It's not like he has anywhere left to go," he reasoned. "I took care of all the exits." He straightened bravely after a moment of avoidance and connected his gaze with his riled companion. "Not to mention, I took a look at the layout of the floor's fire evacuation plan. With no elevators and no stairs, what? Is he gonna jump out a window?"

Misaki shuddered at the suggestion. "From like ten floors up!?"

Saruhiko sighed and tilted away from Misaki's antics with a faint sneer. "You know, Misaki, sometimes I think I'd throw myself out a window to get away from your fire."

"Oh yeah?!" Misaki challenged with both fists braced against his hips. "Then why's he look so-?" The boys scattered to either side of the hallway when their squealing opponent charged their conversation spraying retardant from the fire extinguisher that he pulled out of one of the rooms.

Misaki was left dumbfounded as the man passed them by, weakened Saruhiko's flames in the stairwell and continued to scream as he fumbled down the stairs. The pair blinked back at the unnerving sight repeatedly until Misaki finally found his tongue. "Hey Saru… You said you looked at the fire evacuation plan, right? So… how many of those things do you think he's got access to?" When Saruhiko didn't answer him, Misaki snapped his narrow sneer towards his clumsy partner, his tone sharpening maliciously with impatience. "I'm tellin' Tsukiyo this is all your fault!"

Saruhiko tipped his head away with another derisive snort. _Tsk_.

From where a group of red resistance finished off their opponents below, Saburōta twisted alertly to where a burly fellow charged down the stairway to the sounds of hissing and screaming. "What the hell…?"

Yō wrinkled his nose and cut his sights towards the same view that had chased the uncertain statement from his ally's throat. "Eh? But weren't those guys supposed to be goin' up?"

Two floors lower, Neirah's palm was ignited around the head of one of her adversaries as she raised her phone from her pocket to check her notifications. Despite the man's struggling and wailing, her brow creased to the sight of Misaki's message to her announcing that Saruhiko had let their target escape. "Odd. That seems unlikely."

Just as Rikio was about to beg Neirah to release her smouldering victim, she drew her attention swiftly to the sound of hoarse cries echoing down the hallway. In response to the equation adding up in her head, her eyes widened, and she retracted her claws from the seared scalp of her enemy. "Oh. There he is now." After her victim dropped, her sharp gaze locked on a new target. "He must be their ringleader."

Rikio shuddered in utter mortification. "What?! How do you even know that?"

She dashed towards her friend and thrust one end of her chain into his hands before retreating. "Here. Hold this."

Completely bewildered, it took Rikio a moment to figure out what she meant, but the moment he watched her bolt towards the large windows adjacent with them, he panicked. "Nē-chan, what are you-!?"

"I'm going after him!" She wasn't going to let her miscalculations keep them from gathering the information they needed to stay one step above their enemies.

Over sounds of her calling to him confidently, Rikio whirled his attention to where her leather-clad shoulders burst through the glass of the window. His heart was in his throat as he watched her drop from sight over the edge of the high-rise they'd infiltrated. As soon as he saw her force the slack in her chain to follow, he bound his knuckles in the links to keep them from slipping. "I take it back! You _are_ crazy!"

Even if she trusted her loyal companion to understand her unspoken orders, she still held her breath as she dropped down the side of the building, her eyes pinched together tightly. Then, with a gentle squeal, she felt the chain lock in place the moment Rikio had drawn to the edge of the building with his heels dug into the window frame to help him steady her dangling weight.

He threw his head back, molars ground as he braced himself on the floor above and did everything he could to keep her chain from slipping. "Damn, Chitose is right. How can someone so tiny be so heavy?!" He found himself instantly missing his heavy-set frame as he reached out with one hand to steady himself against the window frame that remained speckled with broken glass, the other bound in the links that were crushing his knuckles. "Neirah, hurry it up!" he hollered after her. He winced as the shards began to bury into his calloused palm, and he couldn't help but vent the discomfort in his escalated tone. "Kusanagi-san would kill me if I dropped you!"

The operation's leader had long since emptied the fire extinguisher he had carried with him towards the bottom of the staircase, but he felt confident that he would be in the clear. The red clansmen were charging the upper floors to cut off his escape route, which meant that if he escaped through the basement floors, he should be able to slip away. He poked his head outside the door on the third level, his heart about to explode from his exertion as he observed the quiet hall.

As soon as he took his first relieved step out to catch his breath, the windows towards the city were shattering, and a delicate creature was tumbling across the floor in a spray of shattered glass. He shrieked as she rose to shake the debris from her wild auburn mane, and moments after she locked her gaze on his, he was slamming the door between them like he thought it was going to help stop her.

Realizing that he was only a few floors up and had no chance of escaping the woman in his current state, the man took a deep breath and leapt over the side of the railing, plummeting the remainder of the floors to beat her to the bottom. His cries rushed out in agony when he felt the bones in his legs displace, but he was alive. Embracing the small triumph, he hobbled to his aching feet and laid his hand on the ground level exit.

When the door fell open, Mikoto lowered his calm golden gaze towards the hunched man, flopping his cigarette to the opposite side of his mouth as he clutched his phone to his ear. A long moment of silence lingered between the pair locked in each other's sights before Mikoto finally spoke. "Yeah? And what'd he look like?"

Misaki was sitting in the middle of the tenth floor with his legs crossed, spreading the bad news to his clan as Saruhiko pouted for his misstep. "I don't know, like darkish-brown hair. Tall-ish, sort of, with a grayish-brown suit on?"

"That's a lotta _ish_," Saruhiko tormented him dimly.

With a furious blush, Misaki held his palm over his watch to snap back at his friend. "Oi! I'm just coverin' for your screw up, Monkey! Show a little gratitude!"

_Tsk._

Mikoto tilted his gaze on the ground floor, watching as the man conceded defeat and collapsed into a blubbering heap by his feet. "Black hair, tan suit, and a white tie?" Mikoto leaned down and casually picked the silver-framed glasses from the man's face, twirling them absently as he watched his target cower. "Did he have glasses?"

Misaki startled alertly. "Oh yeah, he did," he murmured thoughtfully. "Do you have him there? Is he tall-ish?"

There was a hint of playful spirit in Mikoto's tone when he spoke next. "Taller than you are." He ignored the silence on the other side of the phone, where the flustered Misaki had been restraining his need to get angry with his mighty king. "Hard to tell, though. Looks like he just busted up his legs pretty bad."

Misaki could hear the sound of the man wailing his terror as Mikoto's body ignited to warn him that escape was futile. "Mikoto-san, you found him, didn't you!?" Misaki's expression turned towards his partner with a bright smile before he pumped his fist in triumph.

"Yeah, I got 'im," Mikoto rumbled confidently. "We'll meet the rest of you down here."

After Mikoto hung up his phone, he slipped his gaze to where Neirah had finished making her way down the stairs. At first, she seemed startled to see her king getting involved, but it wasn't an unwelcome rush of relief. After considering their opponent's current state, she smiled. "I guess I still have a lot to learn from Onii-san."

Mikoto's expression couldn't help but soften as he offered the woman his arm so that she could step over the weeping mass between them. "You'll get there, kid."

* * *

"King! Nei-chan! You caught the bad guy!" Tatara's smile was brilliant as he cheered for their victory despite neither of them looking overly enthusiastic about being praised for the accomplishment.

Even as Tatara's hand came around her shoulders, Neirah groaned in his embrace while lingering on her defeat. "I didn't do anything, Tat-chan. Fushimi-san was the one who figured it out."

"Damn it! You could've left at least one elevator working!" Misaki's livid roar cut through the parking lot as he reprimanded his sulking companion. "I've never had to walk down so many stairs in my life!" He had to admit that the last time he'd even come close was the day he'd visited Saruhiko at home.

Near to where he tried to comfort their mopey lioness, Tatara chuckled enthusiastically to Misaki's suggestion. "That's because Yata-chan never comes to visit us," he teased. "I don't think the elevator in our building has ever worked."

From near to another exit, Masaomi slid Yō a cigarette and ignited their shared lighter with a dim snort. "What the heck are you complaining about?" Masaomi muttered edgily. "You've got the most energy out of anyone here."

Relieved by the first inhale of the toxin Neirah had robbed him of earlier that evening, Yō groaned his exhaustion. "Consider it stamina training for-" He choked on the conclusion of his statement to the firm strike of Masaomi's fist, bopping the top of his head.

"You know, he could have pretty much ended that statement with anything," Saburōta calmly justified. "How do you know it wasn't stamina training for eating white rice?"

Masaomi couldn't help sneering to think that Saburōta was trying to defend Yō by any measure. "Trust me, Bandō. When you've known this guy as long as I have, you know how he's going to finish."

Saburōta meandered in the opposite direction towards Rikio with a bleak whine. "Ah, but what Dewa says can be just as inappropriate sometimes."

Rikio laughed at the spectacle as he clumsily worked to unbind Neirah's chain. It amazed him to consider that she could fight with such a complicated weapon, but he felt terrible for tangling it as he carried it down after her. "It's no wonder Nē-chan is so heavy. She has to be pretty strong to be carrying this chain around all the time."

As allied forces began to join their king in the street, Neirah suddenly squealed and darted across the pavement towards where Saburōta and Rikio had joined them. "Rikio!" She dusted past Saburōta and grabbed Rikio's hand to observe the modest trail of blood on one of his palms. "Oh no, you're hurt! Did I do that?"

"Oh, come on," Yō chastised impatiently from where he continued to itch his scalp. "So, he got a scratch- You literally just watched Dewa assault me."

"Yeah, but I'm her favourite," Masaomi instigated dryly.

"Since _when_!?"

Rikio blushed and threw his second hand behind his head with an awkward laugh. "Don't worry, Neirah. It's like Chitose said. It's just a scratch." He encouraged her to move her attention towards where Mikoto tapped his cigarette ashes on the head of the leader Tatara bound for questioning. "Besides! Thanks to your plan, we caught their leader!"

Neirah moaned softly and diverted her guilty expression. "That never would have happened if Fushimi-san didn't see the flaws in my strategy."

Leaping passionately to her defence, Misaki threw his arm out to attract her attention. "That's not true! Saruhiko let the guy get away, but you scared him right into Mikoto-san!"

Saruhiko dropped his head to one side with an exhausted sigh. "Just gotta stick up for your little girlfriend, don't you, Misaki?"

"Shut it!" Misaki retaliated through a livid blush. "Don't say such stupid things in front of Mikoto-san!"

"Guys, guys," Tatara sang brightly. "Why are you all fighting over who gets to take the credit?" He straightened with a proud smile as he observed their gathering. "Everyone helped make this happen." Even as he said the words through a smile, his stomach still churned to realize that the only one of them who hadn't done a thing to help was himself.

Mikoto's narrow leer shifted from their gathered friends towards where Tatara's demeanour had left a guilty crease in his brow. Tatara didn't have to speak for Mikoto to understand that his lack of involvement disheartened him. Unfortunately, Mikoto didn't know how to express the truth that without Tatara, there wouldn't be anyone left alive to question.

"Here, let me wrap your hand." Neirah fidgeted with Rikio's hand through her dismay, wrapping it carefully with the strip she'd torn from her snug top.

"It's fine, really!"

As she worked, Yō dropped his arm around Neirah's shoulder with a sinister grin interrupting her diligent work. "If you're gonna kiss someone better-" Yō's head snapped forward as Misaki dropped from above and slammed his elbow into the joint of his shoulders.

"Damn it, Chitose! Stop creeping on Tsukiyo!"

Joining Saruhiko's side, Masaomi cocked a brow for his amusement as he returned his smoke to his face. "Wait-? When did you start sticking up for her?"

"When he went to save his princess from a dragon," Saruhiko pestered relentlessly.

Neirah whirled to face the pair lividly, her grip on Rikio's palm growing fierce. "Tetsuko-san is not a dragon!"

Rikio whimpered to the feeling of Neirah's pressure increasing. "Ah, ow! Nē-chan, that's too rough!"

"H-hah! Sorry!"

"And I didn't do it to save her!" Misaki added fervently. "I did it so that Bandō would stop crying like a baby!"

"Oi! I am _not_ a baby!" Saburōta retaliated firmly. "And how would you even know I was crying?!"

After folding his arms over his chest, Misaki rolled his eyes confidently. "Duh, because you're a damn baby."

"Onē-san is the only one who can call me that!"

Misaki lurched forward aggressively, broadening his stance like he was preparing to strike. "Oh yeah?! Just try and stop me!"

Next to where Mikoto was calmly sucking on the end of his light, he diverted his gaze to the gentle laughter Tatara began to emit for their family's antics. He observed him for a moment, letting the contagious wave of positivity wash over him to see Tatara's delight. "What's so funny?" he rumbled softly.

Finally, Tatara stifled his amusement and turned his soft russet gaze towards his king. "You can't see it?"

Mikoto snorted gruffly, turning to face the bickering crowd before returning his enquiring gaze to Tatara.

Understanding his king's confusion, Tatara shifted to face their friends as he spoke. "It doesn't matter how many of us there are. It will always end like this." Mikoto cocked a brow, carefully examining Tatara's face as he spoke. There was something hopeful in Tatara's expression, but also a quiet longing that became particularly vexing for his king to consider. This was it, their happy kingdom. "HOMRA is like one big family, isn't it?"

Tatara focused his gaze on where Misaki all of a sudden started to get violent with Rikio, causing Neirah to intervene. It was always fun to watch how the relationships forged in the fires of their clan managed to interlock. When they were together, nobody felt excluded. Through some means or another, they were all part of something bigger, and something about that made him proud. "It doesn't matter whether we welcome new additions, or lose some along the way. It always ends up with everyone smiling. Even if bad things happen, we can still laugh together like this…"

Mikoto's expression humbled with dismay. "By lose, you mean-?"

Turning his eyes on his king, Tatara nodded with a saddened crease in his brow. "Yes, Goya," he admitted distantly. "I know he wasn't really a part of your Red Clan or any for that matter, but I feel like I owe him at least this much for what he did that night." He watched Neirah duck around Masaomi to avoid Yō's reprimand, her tongue poking out from behind her lips to sass his impatient display. Then, she stole Masaomi's cap, stretching her arms out and soaring through the chaotic lot with a whimsical giggle. He wasn't sure why the sight of her horsing around with her friends made his thoughts turn so bleak, but they did.

Soon, he encouraged Mikoto to face the warming sight again with a meek smile on his face. "King? Do you think… these memories will be enough?" Tatara didn't bother facing his king's confusion as he continued. They had spoken a similar conversation the day that Eiko had died, and Tatara couldn't help recalling it as Neirah laid her trust in Mikoto's burning hands. _These memories in this happy place…_ "To keep a smile in our hearts?"

Mikoto huffed out a deep sigh, filling the air around him with a humid cloud of smoke as he watched their friends liven up the desecrated streets. "Totsuka, sometimes you say the most ridiculous things."


	15. Kaikyū

**Kaikyū**

* * *

**_August 10th, 2009 4:39 pm_**

Stepping out of the bath left Neirah feeling rejuvenated. With her hair still damp and kinked in more dramatic waves than were typically present, she brushed back the unruly strands, turning her head to the sound of her roommate's voice. Part of her wanted to enjoy the music a little bit longer, but another part of her wanted to instigate.

"Ah, no. That's way too much." From where he started to scribble out words on a piece of paper nearby, Tatara jolted alertly to the feeling of Neirah's wet arms folding around his neck from behind. Her skin was cold, and her full breasts smothered against the couch back wrapped in a plush bath towel. After a yelp that broke his concentration, Tatara's hand raised to Neirah's forearm to make sure she wasn't a phantom. "Nei-chan! You can't sneak up on me like that!" He lowered his fingers to his chest and clasped his shirt above his heart, reprimanding the curious girl through a smile.

"I'm getting better at it, aren't I?" She leaned, her bare toes raising off the floor as she draped herself over his shoulder and strummed some absent chords on his guitar. With a sweet giggle, she turned her face to where she was near to his cheek, her playful grin animating with affection. "But then, I learned from the best."

Tatara reached to rub the kink from his neck. "Either way you look at it, Kusanagi-san's right as usual," he groaned. "I've _never_ been stealthy, but we really _should_ get you a bell." His expression dropped as Neirah chuckled to dismiss his input, and he watched her struggle to climb over the couch as modestly as she could in a towel. She did not succeed, by any means.

After Neirah dropped into the seat next to him with an exasperated grunt, she turned her lively gaze towards her friend. "Would you really put a bell on a lion?" she instigated fondly. "I mean, wouldn't that damage its pride?" When the silence passed between them for a moment where Tatara didn't speak, she turned away from where his unsettlingly vacant stare passed through her. "Fine," she conceded. "But if I have to wear one, I want it to match King-sama's."

Realizing that Tatara still hadn't spoken even after she had included their king in the conversation, her cheeks were colouring with hesitancy as she shifted her gaze towards his locked observation. "Tat-chan? Is everything okay?"

Shaking his head free of his trance, he awkwardly laughed it off. "Oh wow, sorry Nei-chan! I kind of spaced out."

Her brow knotted impatiently. "I noticed."

Comprehending that he wasn't going to get away with a half-baked excuse, he set his guitar on the floor by their feet and turned to face where she sat by his side. "I was just thinking. You know, it's been over a year since that night I brought you here to get cleaned up after your run-in with those Yakuza members."

Neirah seemed to shrink away from the rousing of the subject. "What on earth made you think about that?"

He turned away and flipped his notebook closed. "What you just said. It reminded me of when Kusanagi-san told you that I wasn't even close to being sneaky. You just used to be so skittish and reserved back then. And I was thinking… that today is so different from that time." After settling his transcript on the table in front of him, he faced her with a cheerful smile. "You look so happy."

Neirah sighed blissfully and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder. "It's because Tat-chan's positivity has infected me."

His expression grew bleak with discouragement. "Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?"

"It's not." Her voice was a faint whisper on her lips as she stared comfortably out the window of their shared abode. "Do you remember the day Tanaka joined us? It was almost a year ago now."

"How could I forget?" he chuckled. "He does a great job of reminding us how bitter he is about your first impression." Tatara yelped as Neirah quietly raised her fist and dropped the butt of it into his thigh, causing him to moan while he clutched the area that began to cramp. "Nei-chan, that hurt."

Unaffected by his cries, Neirah continued. "Well, that was the first day I met Anna-chan. I ran away from her because I didn't feel like I was my own person. I felt like I was just doing whatever it took to fit in."

Even though he still rubbed his leg, his expression became sincere as he watched her drift into the memories. "I don't understand why you would feel that way," he admitted. "Everyone seemed to love you right from the beginning."

Neirah let a bashful smile brighten her face. "It's just the way we seem to be structured as a clan," she clarified. "For some reason or another, everyone seems to have someone else that they work better with, who they're really close to. Like Dewa-kun and Chitose, or Onii-san and King-sama. We even met Yata and Fushimi-san that day, and since they've joined, they're inseparable too." Her tone softened with dismay. "I guess I was afraid that if another girl joined our clan, it would be expected for her and I to get along. It caused me to panic."

Tatara seemed confused about the purpose of Neirah's tangent. "But, I thought you and Anna got along just fine?"

Neirah quickly shook her head. "Of course, we do, but not because we have to. I'm just trying to explain that I don't feel pressured to be anything that I am anymore. If I'm optimistic like you, it's because you inspire me to be that way." She turned to face him with a confident smile. "Just like King-sama inspires me to be strong or Kusanagi-san inspires me to be tactful. Rikio helped me see it that day. He was really understanding."

She sighed and tipped her head against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. "Maybe I wouldn't be who I am today if I never met any of you, but I can't bring myself to believe that that's a bad thing." She returned her playful expression towards her roommate, slyly. "Although, with Fushimi-san around, it kind of counters Tat-chan's easygoing aura."

After sharing a warm chuckle at their clanmate's expense, Neirah sighed and nuzzled into Tatara's shoulder. "And when I thought about it more, I stopped worrying about feeling like a third-wheel all the time because just like everyone else, I have a special partner too."

Tatara's expression grew wry with devilish intent. "Did Kamamoto-kun also help you see this?"

Neirah puffed up her cheeks with a mild growl. "Between him and Chitose, it's a wonder I'm even a _little_ sane after that last brawl. I am a spoiled lion and need to be nurtured along with the utmost care when I battle. Otherwise, I get a little crazy. That was the only thing both of them _did_ remind me."

With a carefree chortle, Tatara bent at the hips to pick up his guitar, lying it back in his lap. "I didn't really expect such a big explanation for it," he teased spiritedly. He played a few scattered tones on the strings before cutting his gaze cleverly back. "And here I thought you were just happy about your date."

Neirah wasn't long climbing to her feet as she raised her voice in protest. "For the last time, this isn't a date! I'm just going to spend time with an old friend before my summer has been devoured _completely_ by my duty to my clan!" She scrambled over his legs blocking the path between the couch and table, reminding herself that she had been in the middle of her preparations. "Kusanagi-san had me on house-arrest all that time we were trying to track Tomo, and, at this point, Okazaki-san probably thinks that I hate him."

Tatara's attention had diverted by the time she stepped into the bathroom to lengthen her lashes, and his notebook was spread out before him once more. "Neirah? Before you go, do you think you could listen to this? I think I finally got the chords figured out." He turned to watch her shadow shift hastily in the doorway. "Tell me if the rain sounds happy enough, okay?"

From where she was observing the purposeful blinking of her eyes over a wire brush, she responded. "I'd tell you to ask my feet, but I should probably get dressed first." Batting her eyelashes at her reflection, she smiled and returned her mascara wand to its holster with a satisfying slurp. She did as she'd suggested, dropping the towel into a heap on the tile floor before slipping on her outfit for the day. "I'm listening."

Preparing his recorded tune in front of him, Tatara readied the neck of his guitar and locked in a comfortable position. "Okay, here it goes."

At first, Neirah didn't intend to pay the melody much mind. She was too concerned about getting her bangs to behave. But soon, her finger-comb was slowing its brushstrokes, and her ears were focussing more intently on the way his voice joined in the melody halfway through.

She poked her head out of the doorway, and her glossy lips parted as she watched his demeanour shift with the sound of the music he was making. She was so quiet while he was playing that it caused him to feel uneasy, and he quickly stopped to assess her response with a guilty look on his face.

"Eh, is it no good?"

"No good? It's perfect." Neirah reassured him upon approach. "Tatara, I didn't know you could sing."

He laughed off her compliment with unease. "Well, this is the first time I've tried, so I guess I didn't either." He watched her approach until she was near again, and then he quickly diverted his gaze. "Anna-chan helped me to figure out the chords, and I started to put words to it the other day after King's fight with Tetsuko. I don't know why, but… I was feeling inspired."

"I see…"

Tatara's smile flushed with embarrassment as he watched his fingers turn the page on the table before him. "Anna-chan thinks I should call the song _Circle of Friends_. I never really thought about naming it or anything, but I guess it makes sense seeing as-" His brow creased when he comprehended that Neirah had grown distant and his tone reflected his initial concern. "Nei-chan? Is something the matter?"

Shaking herself from her trance, she rejected his assumption with the shake of her head and wandered into their kitchenette. "It's nothing," she quietly reassured him. "I guess I'm just wondering… how Tomo is doing."

Tatara diverted his gaze and carried on gently strumming his song to practice the rhythm. "I invited him to the bar if he wanted to talk about things, but it's been a while now. It makes me wonder if the Blue Clan might not have picked him up. They've been working hard since their new king was chosen."

Neirah stared at the back of his head as he continued to play, her thoughts despondent. "Have you met him yet? The Blue King?"

His playing suddenly stopped. "Just in passing," he admitted quietly. "He and King don't get along very well. I can tell."

Her face lit up with a faint smile. "Maybe the Blue King has the same social handicap as I do. They may have just gotten off on the wrong foot."

The gentle sound of Tatara's strumming filled their home again. "I'm not too sure about that, but I know Kusanagi-san was pretty relieved when they managed to get away without much punishment from the Gold King."

Neirah snorted curtly. "No kidding," she sassed. "In my opinion, that new king should be showing ours the respect he deserves. I'm sure he'll learn the hard way that being a king isn't easy, and Mikoto-sama has much more experience."

Tatara finally turned to face her from over the back of the couch with a nervous laugh. "Now, now, Kusanagi-san is right. Lion-chan should behave herself while we figure everything out."

She uttered a displeased retching noise as she approached the door. "That sounds absolutely dreadful," she argued. "I don't care if he _is_ a king. If he stands in my way, he's just another obstacle to burn."

"That doesn't sound like a very good attitude to have," he groaned hesitantly. Then, he adjusted his tone to a dull murmur through his smile. "But strangely enough, that's pretty similar to what King said about him too..."

Just before dismissing herself, Neirah turned in the doorway to address his concern. "Our fate is our own, remember? Anyone who would stand in the way of how we want to shape it is an enemy, as far as I'm concerned, social handicap or not." With a distant sigh, she reached out and absently twisted one of her cute good-fortune cat magnets upright against the fridge. "Besides, King-sama has good intuition. If he says he's no good, he's probably right."

Tatara observed her for a moment before instigating her fury. "Ah, but you know who else King doesn't like."

Snapping to attention, Neirah threw down her balled fists and shouted her retort. "Okazaki-san is a good person whether I date him or not, so I won't let King-sama burn him!"

Tatara's expression warmed. "Because he's in the circle, right?"

His calming tone seemed to comfort the rampaging woman. "That's right…"

They shared an understanding smile before Tatara checked the clock and urged her to depart. "It's almost five. You should get going before he thinks you stood him up."

Neirah startled, checking his accuracy on the wall before rushing towards the door. "You're right!" After opening it, she hung in the doorway for another moment to address her companion. "Don't worry. I won't be long. And I'll go see Onii-san when I'm done, so he doesn't think I've been kidnapped or anything quite so malevolent."

"Go!" Tatara repeated playfully. "I'll take care of Kusanagi-san if he gets suspicious."

She offered him an appreciative beam in response before vanishing down the hall. "You're the best!"

* * *

"What?! No way!" The only thing that was more surprising to Gin than the news Neirah had just delivered was that she'd said it all with a straight face. "No wonder I didn't see you much this summer." He raised his cappuccino cup to his lips and sipped, careful to lick the foam from his upper lip when he lowered it. "Believe it or not, I think I seriously underestimated this whole 'clan' thing."

Murmuring her words softly with her lips still resting against the plastic lid of her coffee-flavoured cream, Neirah diverted her gaze towards the congested shopping mall. "You shouldn't be thinking about it at all," she sternly corrected. "Kusanagi-san isn't happy with you right now. And I hope you take my word for it when I tell you that he's a dangerous enemy to make."

Gin tipped his gaze over the top frame of his ruby glasses in thought. "Kusanagi… He's the one behind the bar, right? The one that acts kind of like your big brother?" Gin was delighted to turn and watch a minuscule smile raise the girl's flushed cheeks.

"I suppose he does, doesn't he?"

Matching her enthusiasm, Gin brightened. He was curious about her other world, and it helped that she became a much happier person whenever they spoke about her family. He turned away from the view and popped the plastic lid off his drink so he could finish the cinnamon-sprinkled frothed milk at the bottom. "And I definitely remember Kamamoto-san. You two spend a lot of time together, don't you?"

Neirah nodded more than once, which to Gin, marked her interest in their conversation. "Rikio was one of my first friends in HOMRA," she explained. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he saved my life the night I joined the Red Clan."

Gin choked on inhaling cinnamon as he found himself caught off-guard by his snicker. "Wait- How are you not positive?"

Neirah's eyes seemed to vivify as she connected their gazes. "I don't fall from multi-story buildings often, so it's difficult to say whether or not I'd survive."

From where they sat beside each other on the mall bench, Gin lurched to life with urgency in his tone. "Ah! Tsukiyo, you need to be more careful!"

Neirah didn't adjust in defence of her actions. "Don't be absurd. Now that I carry the power of the slate, I jump off tall buildings for fun."

"How can you say that so casually?!"

Neirah sighed and slipped her attention over the sight of the people passing by them. "These are the kinds of things people under the slate's influence are capable of. To us, it doesn't seem half as crazy as it sounds."

Gin chuckled awkwardly and settled back against the bench. "I don't know… Even _half_ of the crazy seems like too much for me."

Finding a soft laugh in the back of her throat, Neirah dusted her hair over her shoulder, setting her half-emptied cup in the trash. "You're one to talk. I know you've been coming around the bar looking for me." She offered her hand his way to receive his empty paper cup and throw it away for him, catching the apprehension in his gaze as he considered their nearness.

When presenting his cup to her, he considerately gripped the top rim so that she could take the base in her palm where they wouldn't risk contact. "Well, sometimes you don't answer my messages, and I know you spend a lot of time there." He groaned softly and raised his fingers to his shoulder like he recalled the pain. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind showing up there if it weren't for that scrappy kid with the skateboard." Suddenly, Gin raised both hands, linking his fingers behind the back of his head as he recalled being struck there with the aforementioned article. "I'm telling you, he gets downright irrational when I ask about you. Last time, I was pretty sure he was going to kill me."

Gin yelped the moment the bench ignited with laughter loud enough to cause spectators to divert their attention. His expression dropped as he took in the beautiful view of her pearly smile, the way her cheeks dusted with pink and her eyes sparkled with life.

"Yata." She raised her finger to her eye to catch the tears that were beginning to fall from her outburst. "Believe it or not, he's one of our best fighters."

Sheepishly, a beaming Gin whimpered and rubbed his head again. "Hah, I believe it."

Neirah turned to face the food court with a tender expression on her face. "Then the broody one with the dark hair and glasses is Fushimi-san. He helps me with my homework sometimes if I pester him enough. The redhead with looks that could kill is my king, Suoh Mikoto-sama."

"I remember that one, too," Gin clarified. "After the wild one roughed me up, Suoh-san picked me up by my collar and tossed me out." He even re-enacted the moment for her so that she could get a few more laughs in. "Just like that! Like I was trash!"

Despite Gin's obvious suffering by the hands of her clan, Neirah was joyful to hear his side of the story. "If you think Yata is wild, you obviously haven't met Chitose-kun yet. He might not be as high energy, but at least Yata let you leave with both legs, and I'm assuming they were functional." She turned a puckish glance his way. "Chitose is almost as protective over me as Kusanagi-san, especially when King-sama isn't around, but I can't seem to figure out what kind of relationship we have."

Gin seemed startled into considering a romantic interest. "E-eh? What do you mean by that?"

She rested her hands on the bench at her sides as she kicked out her aching feet. "Most of the boys refer to me as Nē-chan, even the ones who are older than me. But with him, it's hit or miss."

"Oh yeah," he interrupted knowledgeably. He connected both sets of thumbs and forefingers before raising them to his face like glasses. "There was this one guy with really dark sunglasses on one time I was there. He called you Onē-san like that little girl-"

"Ah, Wolf-kun."

"And then he punched me."

"He what!?" Neirah cracked her palm against her brow with a bitter moan. "Great, now Bandō is picking up _Yata's_ bad habits. He can be so impressionable…"

"And you're telling me that this Chitose fellow is more protective of you than _that_?"

There was a meek defence on Neirah's face as she tilted her guilty smile his way. "Well, if he and Dewa-kun were ever there when you showed up, they'd probably break both of your knees." She touched her lip in thought as Gin's jaw dropped. "Hmm, come to think of it, if Dewa-kun _were_ there, they'd probably do it discretely. Maybe stalk you into a dark, secluded place first." Gin parted his lips to speak only to be interrupted again. "But Dewa-kun is a bit of a sadist sometimes when he's angry, so they might break your legs anyway, or slowly torture you for a while until you promised not to come around again. But then, Chitose would probably break something after all, so either way, I suggest avoiding them."

"T-they sound… like _great_ friends!" Gin chuckled out nervously.

She sighed like she was disappointed and then dropped her head to ignore the sight of her companion paling in terror. "To be honest, Fujishima might be the only one who wouldn't attack you just for the fun of it."

Gin's tone dampened docilely. "Ah, and which one is he again?"

"Probably the one who dragged Wolf-kun away from you, despite his noise and flailing."

He held his hands up to his crown and slicked them back to indicate Kōsuke's hairstyle. "Ginger lad. Real soft eyes."

Neirah nodded repeatedly. "That sounds about right."

Gin's fondness grew even more reflective as he dropped his hands into his lap with a grateful smile. "Wow. You change so much when you talk about them." He didn't bother shying away from the shock that she twisted to connect with his observation. "And then, I'm pretty sure there was one more that always seems to be there. The last time Suoh-san tossed me out, he was there telling him not to hurt me too bad because it would upset you." When he watched her face contort with bashful humility, he sheepishly raised his fingers and twisted a lock of his hair. "He uh… How do I describe him?"

With careful precision, Gin removed his glasses and turned his deep russet gaze towards her with a small furrow in his brow. "He kind of looks like me but, eh… without glasses." After watching the way Neirah's demeanour adjusted, he quickly diverted his gaze and slipped his spectacles back over the bridge of his nose. "Well, I uh, never got his name."

When Gin turned to face her again, Neirah's smile had softened with notes of enamoured endearment. "Tat-chan." Her whisper had been so quiet that Gin felt the need to shuffle closer to hear her, and when he did, she repeated her words politely. "Totsuka Tatara. He's my roommate."

Caught unprepared by the admittance, Gin's expression shook with jealous guilt. "Y-you… live together?"

She nodded slowly. "Since the day we met over a year ago. He was the one who introduced me to King-sama."

Finally, Gin had to divert his gaze, and he immediately began to fidget by her side. "I see, so he's the one…"

_Hm?_

Throwing his hands out to wave them in front of his face, Gin quickly laughed off his hesitancy. "Oh nothing, I just- There are these times when you act differently. Like, you're all smiles and full of energy when you talk about the others, but when it comes to this Totsuka-san, you really…" He trailed off under the intensity of her focussed observation. "Well, you… You're just… different is all." He diverted his sheepish gaze. "I notice it. I can tell that you're close to him."

"Okazaki-san, can I tell you something… kind of personal?"

Gin immediately straightened and redirected his attention when he heard the woman speak so earnestly. "Y-yes, of course!"

Neirah's gaze tapered as she stared at the floor and tried to steady her racing heartbeat. "When I first met Tat-chan, I didn't believe he actually existed. Everything felt… so surreal, and a part of me worried that I had finally lost my mind."

She raised her hands to her shoulders and gave them a self-conscious rub to banish the chill creeping up her spine. "I recognize that you don't know him very well, but if you did, I'm sure you would understand," she whispered. "He isn't like anybody I've ever met. He's… just perfect, in every way. I suppose what I feared the most, back then, was that when my damaged subconsciousness didn't need his help anymore, he would disappear."

Finally, she let a sheepish smile curl her lips. "But he stayed. He's still here with me, reminding me that everything will work out in the end. Even when I face my deepest fears or hardest battles, he's always there with a smile to remind me that we're going to be alright."

Shaking herself free of the mushiness, she quickly readjusted her smile to be as casual as possible. "Tat-chan might be the most important member of our clan. It's hard to describe. He's the least confrontational, but I feel like we would be lost without him. And…" Her face ignited when she turned her fond beam back towards her companion. "He's my very best friend in the entire world."

Gin was still having a hard time figuring out the signals he received from the woman by his side, but he didn't feel pressured to, by any means. For the time being, he just appreciated how happy she looked and how good that made him feel. "I'm kind of jealous," he teased. "To think that you've only known him for a little while, and he can make you smile like that. He must be pretty special." He laughed despite his contempt. "I mean, I've had way longer than he has, and I'm only just starting to hear you laugh, which is great, by the way."

Neirah shivered to the impact of his playful wink and how Gin's easygoing attitude matched Tatara's so seamlessly. "But Okazaki-san is a good person too," she murmured fondly. "I'm beginning to see that more clearly now."

With a bashful chuckle, Gin climbed to his feet. Just as he went to offer his hand to her to help her raise, he immediately retracted it out of respect for her delusions. "We should probably get going soon, right? I don't want Kusanagi-san to get mad that I kept you too late." Gin had accepted that he was no match for the rival he'd seen in Tatara, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy her company while it lasted. "Do you think it's okay if I walk you back to the bar?"

Neirah's cheeks coloured with a deep red to consider his reverent spirit. "I don't quite care if it is or not," she prompted spiritedly. "I would enjoy the company, so I promise I'll protect you from any wrath that befalls you upon our arrival."

Gin laughed energetically at her declaration. "That's so reassuring! Thank you!" he proclaimed. "I feel so much safer knowing that the Red Lion is protecting me!"

Neirah softly groaned as they began to depart. "I know you're genuine, but if you're trying to be flattering, it's lion_ess_."

Gin seemed staggered by her refusal. "But, from what I can tell, everyone on the outside calls you the Red Lion?"

"Well, they're wrong."

"Ah, ha, alright then!" he corrected. "I feel much better knowing that the Red Lion_ess _has my back!"

"Keep it up, and she'll be chewing on it."

"E-eh, right!"

* * *

Neirah was in good spirits by the time she waved after Gin and let herself into Izumo's bar. There was a gentle song on her lips as she hummed the chords Tatara had begun to piece together. As she entered the bar just before ten, she couldn't help but repeat the lyrics she heard him begin to construct that day. "Ikusen mono kō sasuru michi de, bokura wa deaeta-"

"Aren't you in a fine mood," Izumo drawled mischievously from behind his bar. "And did I just catch you singing?"

Neirah leapt to attention, throwing her hands out in front of her to cover for her folly. "A-ah! No! You heard- well, I'm not sure what you heard, but it certainly wasn't singing. The Red Lioness only parts her jaws to roar."

Through his amused hum, she could see the tension brewing in her superior's body as he leaned over the rosewood counter to interrogate her. "That Okazaki has you all starry-eyed, I see. Be a damn shame if he didn't make it home tonight."

"That's not-!" A moment of panic stole her voice as she looked around the bar to realize that it had been empty. "W-wait… Where is everyone? Chitose and Dewa-kun specifically." What surprised her was that the bar was even void of customers. It seemed strange considering how much traffic usually popped by with a bad case of the Mondays.

Izumo sighed and shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk. "Maybe I sent them out after your little pal, maybe they wandered out for some air, but who knows."

"That's not funny, Onii-san," she reprimanded sourly on approach. Growing braver as she took a stand for her departed companion, she folded her arms over her chest and snorted derisively. "Okazaki-san is a good person, and you owe him an apology for accusing him of being involved in that whole ordeal this summer." When she neared the bar, she knelt on one of the stools and leaned forward to jab her index finger into the centre of his chest. "And if there is even a _hint_ of truth in what you just said, you'd better call King-sama now and tell him to get his butt back here before I hunt him down and do it myself."

Izumo flashed interest but didn't demonstrate any more enthusiasm in his tone as he spoke. "Is that so? Now _that_ sounds interesting." Belittling her efforts, he reached out and patted her head with an affectionate smile. "You're so cute when you act tough."

A flash of crimson stole her impatient glower as she focussed on keeping her bubbling aura from surfacing like she stood a chance at making demands out of Izumo. "Kusanagi-san is being mean."

With a hearty sigh, Izumo retracted his palm and raised a saucer to the bar between them. "Come on, Neirah. You know I'm just teasing." To reward her for being home on time, he gently added a teacup to her plate before offering her the sight of a steaming kettle. "What do you know. I just put this on a couple of minutes ago, so it should be good and hot."

She startled to the sincerity in his tone as he poured her tea and immediately realized what he had done. With a sheepish blush, she tilted her gaze away with a faint grin. "Thank you, Onii-chan."

He smiled tenderly and returned the kettle to its hotplate before locking her under his observation. "So, how was your date this time?"

With a happy sigh, Neirah took her first sip of tea before lowering her cup to its saucer and appreciating the robust flavour. "It was wonderful, thank you for asking," she initiated dryly. "Though, for the umpteenth time, it wasn't a date. Okazaki-san just isn't my type."

"I see." His casual croon was quiet as he continued to wipe down his countertop. "Then what kind of men _are_ you interested in?" he pried. "Tell me so I can put a sign on the door warding them off before they become a nuisance."

"Okazaki-san is not a nuisance," she retorted sternly. "And my type is undetermined."

Izumo shimmied closer and pressed the issue in the same way he may have if she were their enemy, but it didn't cause her to bat a lash at his display. "Are you insulting my intelligence, young lady? You're seventeen and turning all the boy's heads. If it isn't annoying, then why don't you tell me which ones you like to see lookin' your way?" When her sharp and lethal glower met with his, he pressed the matter. "You can tell your big brother, Kusanagi."

"Oh, I'm going to tell him something, you can be sure of that."

The pair reacted very differently to the sound of the entry bell chiming. Neirah had sighed her relief and could have sworn that she saw Izumo flash teeth towards the interruption. "Thank goodness," she hummed gratefully.

"We'll continue this later," he nearly growled. "So, stay put and finish your tea."

"Whatever you say, Onii-chan."

Even though he wanted to fire back at the bratty teenager, he bit his tongue in preparation to address his approaching customer. Letting her wriggle off his hook for the moment, he turned his pleasant smile towards the storefront and uttered his friendly greeting. "Evening and welcome to bar HOMRA. How can I-"

Neirah startled with a gentle hum of curiosity as Izumo lost his words before they came. She was cautious as she turned over her shoulder, hoping that he hadn't done so because Tomaya had just waltzed on into their unguarded territory. She didn't know if the presence to meet her eyes was reassuring, though. Instead, the sight made her groan. "Well, we know what Kusanagi-san's type is-"

Izumo ignored Neirah's agonized yelp as he struck her over the head the moment their female guest had turned her fair features away to observe her quiet surroundings. By the time her soft blue eyes faced him again from beneath her neatly styled blonde bangs, he was clearing his throat and readjusting his friendly façade. "How might I be of service?"

The beautiful creature seemed curious, but stiff as she approached the bar while carefully noting the presence of those in her company. She dressed modestly and took a seat at the bar two stools from Neirah's tensed figure as she laid her handbag down on the bar top. Even though she wasn't acting nearly as elaborate as the women to grate on Neirah's nerves characteristically, the lively brunette didn't seem to have much use for their company.

The woman took note of this as she kindly addressed the girl. "My, aren't you a little young to be sitting at a bar?" Even if her question seemed aloof, there was an authority in the tone that uttered it like she was instigating conflict.

Izumo groaned as he watched Neirah stiffen to the mere acknowledgment of her presence, sipping her tea. "Here we go…"

Noticing that Neirah wasn't going to pay her any mind, the blonde straightened in her seat with a soft snort. "Well, I suppose if all you're drinking is tea, there shouldn't be any trouble."

Izumo rushed forward and tried to capture the astute woman's attention. "Ah, please don't mind her," he rushed out worrisomely. "That's my little sister, Neirah. She comes by to visit me sometimes when it's quiet. I can assure you I would never serve anyone underage." Izumo wasn't quite sure how he felt about the analytical twinkle in the woman's crystal-clear eyes.

"Is that so?" The beauty returned her gaze to Neirah and observed the girl. Just beneath the cascade of auburn waves falling over Neirah's shoulders, the woman caught the sight of golden lines twisting up her target's spine in the shape of the symbol on the front door. "You have lovely hair," she prodded cunningly. "But isn't it a little impractical in length?"

Even as Izumo shuddered to the sound of Neirah's cup clattering with her saucer, their busty blonde guest did not. The sharp blue leers of both women met for the briefest moment that night, neither of them threatened by each other's superior air, and Izumo could see his life flashing before his eyes. It was a miracle that he didn't have to break up a catfight.

"Ah, you'll have to excuse her," he murmured soundly. "She has a pretty bad attitude when it comes to introductions."

The woman turned away from the door where she watched Neirah exit, her hands settling calmly into her lap. "It's no trouble," she assured him. "Younger siblings can be bothersome at times, can't they?"

Izumo began to relax again once Neirah had departed. "You have siblings?"

"Two older brothers," she stated dourly.

He let an entertained chuckle rumble in his throat. "So, what you're saying is that you were the bothersome one."

It seemed like she didn't accept his humour as her sharpening gaze tapered on him incredulously. "Do you find me bothersome?"

With a hearty sigh, Izumo straightened and prepared for the conflict unfolding before him now that he was unmanned and on his own. At the very least, he poured her a glass of water to be courteous. "You'll have to forgive me, Lieutenant Awashima Seri. It's been a quiet day, and I'm runnin' on about three hours of sleep." He passed her the glass, taking a moment to appreciate her startled expression before it hardened again. "That and sometimes I'm just not that good at gettin' serious with a beautiful lady."

Shaking herself out of her astonished trance, Seri closed her eyes and wrapped her hand around his offering. "So, you knew who I was. That was most impressive."

"I make it my business to know everything I can when it comes to the slate," he educated calmly. "And SCEPTRE4's revival has me particularly curious."

"I bet it does," she droned inertly. "As to be expected of HOMRA's top informant."

Her blunt analysis caused an easy laugh to fill the space between them. "Although it's nothing too impressive. I mean, we did briefly cross paths the day our kings got slapped on the wrist by Kokujōji-san." He offered her stern expression another friendly grin. "Besides, isn't what you're doing the same?"

Surrendering to his accuracy, Seri diverted her gaze towards the water she sipped. "I suppose that is a fair accusation."

"Ah, but I'm not accusing you of anything," he corrected. "I don't see a reason why we can't have a civil conversation between clans. Wish Mikoto could see it that way. Unfortunately, that guy only seems to wanna talk with his fists."

Seri showed the Red King no leniency in her statement. "Your king seems to be a rather tenacious fellow," she instigated. "He's succeeded in causing quite the stir around our base of operation."

"I'm sure he'd be flattered," he teased brightly. "But don't sell yourself short, Awashima-san. Your Munakata Reisi has made quite an impression on him too. Looks like they're not gonna get along." He connected eyes with the woman in hopes that she would see that there was no ill-intent in his. "Y' see, first impressions are important. That's why I've been trying to teach Neirah to be better at them. Unfortunately, I can tell you and her are probably going to take after our kings."

For the first time since she'd stepped into his bar, Seri curled her lips up into a soft smile. "I see. But as first impressions go-"

"I think you and I will be alright," he interrupted in agreement.

Her smile remained thin as she lowered her head with a tender sigh. "Actually, that's exactly what I was hoping for. Seeing as our kings can't seem to converse civilly, I was hoping that, as enforcers of their will, we might be able to help them along."

A casual purr found Izumo's tone as he picked up some liquor bottles and began to return them to their rightful places on the shelf behind him. "No doubt you want us reds to back off now that SCEPTRE4 is back in business, am I right?"

The authority immediately returned to Seri's tone as she continued. "Seeing as SCEPTRE4 is generally responsible for the handling of dangerous or unruly Strains, it only makes sense that we begin to fulfil that duty now that we are fully operational."

Even though their conversation was indeed civil, Izumo couldn't help but feel his heart sink with disappointment. "You learn quickly, considering you haven't been a blue clansman for very long." He settled the remainder of the bottles on the shelves and turned to connect their gazes. "Unfortunately, we don't always have time to wait on all the proper paperwork, if you know what I mean."

"You make it sound like HOMRA could ever play the victim," she prompted doubtfully. "Do you actually expect me to believe that your king doesn't instigate these occurrences?"

"Well, I'm not saying he's innocent, but we've had our reasons in the past."

"Oh? And what was your reason behind the incident last winter with the human trafficking ring devastated in the harbour?" Her tone grew more profound as she continued her interrogation. "There wasn't even a Strain involved in that incident. If you ask me, it was in direct violation of Protocol 120."

Izumo dismissed her intensity and remained relaxed under her scrutiny. "Ah, that one was personal."

"That is what I'm saying," she commanded dryly. "Nearly a hundred people lost their lives in that incident."

"A hundred, huh? Seemed like a lot more at the time."

Upon straightening, Seri thrust her stiff fingers into her lap and tapered her gaze on the casual man. "If I may be frank, Kusanagi-san, I think a lot of your problem is the men your king chooses to join his clan. It is no secret that his main informant was previously a member of a notorious Yakuza group. They call him the Red Lion, and coincidently enough, that incident at the harbour retaliated against his group of origin."

"Now _I'm_ the one who's impressed," he drawled with intrigue. "Just how did you manage to put all that together in less than a month?"

"I have my ways," she purred strictly. "But the real reason I wanted to meet with you was to see if you were as callous as the rumours tell."

Izumo's hands fumbled with the glassware he was handling, and he had to scramble to keep it from striking the floor. "Eh? You think _I'm_ the Red Lion?"

There was no mercy in the woman's icy glower. "Are you going to deny that too?"

After a staggering moment, Izumo sighed with a fond smile and returned his easygoing demeanour. "Well, of course," he assured her confidently. "It wouldn't be fair of me to take credit where it isn't due. Our little lion worked hard to become so revered. Although she prefers Red Lion_ess_, if you would, Lieutenant."

It was Seri's turn to be bewildered by the words to join their conversation. "S-she?

His gaze shifted towards the door as his endearing smile remained, and Seri's was soon to follow. "And she's not great with introductions, so I wouldn't expect one anytime soon."

"T-that young girl… She's-?"

"Now, now," he strategically interrupted. "I recommend you take care not to look down on her for her age. She's seen more action than half'a my boys." His tapering leer focussed roguishly on her startled reaction. "Besides, you can't be much older than she is." Catching the sheepish hesitation in her typically commanding demeanour, he held out his upturned palm with a mischievous smirk. "Speaking of which, I'm gonna need to see some ID, miss."

At first, the flush in Seri's cheeks could have been mistaken for rage as she stood, but after she reclaimed her handbag, she was offering the bartender a surprisingly welcoming smile. "I suppose this is your victory, Kusanagi Izumo."

He lowered his palm to join the other on top of the bar. "Don't be like that," he comforted kindly. "It's not my intention to come off sounding pretentious. I meant it when I said that I think we can get along just fine."

"I also don't see any reason why we couldn't converse politically," she admitted vaguely. "But it would appear that I still have a lot to learn."

"Well, feel free to come by anytime you feel like it," he invited. "Or, in case I'm not here, maybe you wanna exchange numbers. Just in case curiosity strikes outside of business hours."

Seri narrowly stifled a dim chortle. "I get the feeling that subtlety isn't the strong suit of anyone operating under the Third King."

"I wish I could assure you that Neirah and I are anomalies, but the truth is, you're probably more accurate than you realize."

"I'll keep that in mind," Seri crooned in a friendly manner. "Next time you see her, please tell your little sister that I apologize for making her feel uncomfortable."

"Yeah. A lion's pretty particular about its mane."

With an instigating leer over her shoulder, Seri braced her lean fingers on the doorway before making her final remark. "Female lions don't have manes."

As he dropped his waving hand to the sight of her departure, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Maybe that's what makes ours so terrifying."

_Hm?_ Izumo tilted his gaze to watch the street begin to buzz with laughter, and, sure enough, his brood of boisterous clansmen was returning. It always entertained him to watch the way his colleagues fluttered around their king like moths to a flame. In a way, he found it ironic. But no matter how brightly that fire burned, it could never outshine the smiles on their faces.

"Kusanagi-san look!" From where she lingered draped over Rikio's shoulders, Neirah's fond expression beamed utter joy. "I found King-sama, and he brought snacks!" She whined softly the moment Mikoto released his cigarette so that he could palm the braying woman's head.

"Kid, I'm not gonna say it again."

"Sorry, Mikoto-sama."

"You're hopeless."

"Sorry that it took so long. We walked Fujishima home. His parents get worried when he's out too late." Rikio sighed and crouched so that Neirah could climb off his shoulders. "Nē-chan, you really need to stop wearing those shoes all day. I can't carry you everywhere."

"That's what I've been tellin' her!" Misaki argued.

As soon as Rikio opened his eyes to support Misaki's claim, he came eye-to-ruby-eye with a young Strain who seemed fascinated by the concept of piggyback rides. "Oh, Anna-chan? Is something the matter?" Rikio's expression dimmed apprehensively as the child gently shook her head, her lips concealed by the frilly cuff of her dress. "Ah… do you want one too?" He laughed awkwardly as the blushing doll quickly nodded her head with an eager sparkle in her eye. "Well, alright, then. Hold on tight, okay?"

From where he watched Rikio volunteering his services, Saburōta let a wicked snicker sound around the plain cookie side of the strawberry Pocky he was eating backwards. "That's rough," he noted wryly. "Onē-san's done it this time. Now Anna-chan's always gonna want-" His words were stollen by startled yelps when Neirah bounced by, shoving her fingers down against the beak of his cap so that it covered his eyes. Then, before he could interject, she chomped off the dipped end of his cookie. "Ah-h ha! What the hell was that for?!"

"Don't act coy," Neirah tormented. "You were eating it backwards. You were practically begging someone to steal it."

A blushing Saburōta finished munching what remained of his cookie before throwing his fist out at her. "I was saving the best for last! That's not weird at all!"

Saburōta was immediately dropping his head a second time as Yō swatted his cap off the top. "Shit, do you have to be so damn loud?" He didn't even bother to meet Neirah's concerned gaze as he passed by her and cracked the top off his soda bottle. Then, he took a moment to consider how he was going to drink and smoke at the same time. It was the only choice that ever broke his heart to have to make. "And Nē-chan shouldn't lead him on like that."

"Yeah!" Misaki added supportively. He made his way to Neirah's side with a welcoming smile on his blushing face. "Besides, Kusanagi-san said you should be back here somewhere around ten, so we picked some up for you too!" He rummaged through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a box and a bottle. "I remember the other day on the roof you said you had strawberry candies, so I figured ya probably liked 'em, and Chitose said you liked fermented tea. It was either that or coffee with way too much cream in it, and the thought of that just made me gag." Even though he wrinkled his nose to consider the flavour himself, he didn't let his judgment pass on her tastes. "See? Now you don't have to share with stupid Bandō."

Saburōta couldn't hide his bitter discouragement as he bashfully snapped at Misaki's insult. "What if I wanted to share?!"

"Thank you," she murmured with a distracted smile. She received the kind gesture warmly, but when her eyes diverted, the delight faded. Neirah turned sadly to where Yō was sitting unusually quiet on his own, without adding his two cents to the conversation. "Uh oh, woman troubles?" She shifted her tender gaze over her shoulder to the sound of Masaomi snorting derisively at her assumptions.

"Is it ever anything else?" he muttered grimly. "Just give him some space to figure out that his will to live isn't at the bottom of a bottle, and he should be right back at it tomorrow."

"Wise words from my most trusted and loyal _friend_," Yō snapped sardonically. Before he could kick up more of a fuss, Neirah had taken a seat at the bar next to him and offered him a tender smile as she nudged his hand with hers.

"Do you want to play with my bracelet?"

Yō seemed to consider the warmth in her statement for a moment. Then, an appreciative smile was curling his lips around his cigarette. Surrendering to her comfort, he dropped his hand to caress the dark bangle with its match lingering just beneath the contact around his wrist. "Yeah, that might help."

"Is Fushimi not with you?" Izumo interrupted curiously. "I swear he was when you left."

From behind his soda, Misaki made a disapproving face and snorted his impatience while he seated himself on the other side of Neirah. "Yeah, then he gave some lame excuse and left. Don't worry, Kusanagi-san. I'll give 'im hell when I get home."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Izumo calmly refuted. "It's not like it's a prerequisite to spend every waking hour together."

Misaki snapped forward like the man had just insulted him. "What do you mean?! We're a team! We've gotta stick together! What if Mikoto-san needs us and we're not there?! I mean, with those blue bastards sneaking around and all-"

"_Sneaking_?" Izumo chuckled lowly. "Is that what you think they're doing?"

"Well… yeah, kinda."

"Speaking of _togetherness_," Neirah instigated quietly. "Has anyone seen Tat-chan? I haven't seen him since I left."

Misaki cocked a brow curiously. "Huh? I thought he was with you? Didn't you guys go somewhere around five-ish?"

Neirah's expression dropped to consider Izumo's white-lie. "_Yes_, how could I have forgotten..."

"Anna-chan, can I stop now?" Rikio groaned when he turned over his shoulder to meet the frantic shaking of Anna's head.

After an unconcerned shrug, Misaki seemed to dismiss the urgency of the topic. "Seems weird when you think about it."

"I don't find it suspicious in the slightest," Izumo instigated casually nearby.

Neirah raised from her seat and quickly shuffled towards the door. "Right, well, I seem to have just remembered where I left him, so I should probably get going." She was careful to flash Izumo a lethal glower just in case he missed the edge in her tone as she spoke. Upon dropping her gaze, she directed a quick bow towards Misaki. "Thank you for the snacks, Yata."

When she started away from the bar in a light jog, Misaki spat out his drink and fell forward in his seat, nearly choking on the remains. "How the hell did she know I was the one that got them for her?!"

"She's not stupid, you know," Masaomi instigated. "You've been acting super nice to her since that whole thing with Tetsuko."

"I already told you," Izumo rumbled impatiently. "She isn't upset with you about interrupting her that day. You don't have to try so hard."

Misaki whirled his bashful expression to face his superior. "Yeah, but did she tell you that herself?!"

"I think I know why Fushimi left," Yō grumbled. "You two just aren't meant to be on the same page. Deal with it."

"Why don't you just talk to her?" Izumo prompted. "Seeing how you can do that now."

"I dunno, it's just… still kinda weird," Misaki muttered under his breath. "I can never tell what she's thinking." He whimpered when Izumo approached and laid his hands against the bar in front of him with a sinister grin flashing his annoyance.

"Then _ask_ her."

* * *

Sure enough, when Neirah returned home, all of the lights were still on, and she had to wonder if Tatara had ever left the apartment. She let herself in, setting her empty bottle of fermented tea on the counter before trying to locate her roommate. "Tat-chan, I'm home!" She stepped through the room, a knot in her face as she searched for him. "Tat-chan? Have you been here all day? Have you eaten anything?"

Suddenly, her breathing hitched as she approached the sight of him hunched over his guitar, his folded arms resting against the couch arm that supported his sleeping head. With a gentle sigh, her fond smile returned, and she approached the heartwarming sight. "Oh, what did you do?"

She started by lifting him and apprehending his instrument, then, to keep him from stirring too much, she replaced it on the couch arm. She laid him back into her lap as she took up his notebook, letting him continue to nap away the exhaustion of working on his song all day. He seemed dedicated to his project, and it began to show in the beautiful lyrics she started to read from his pages. She felt the sentiment welling within her as she slid her fingers through his hair, his song hummed softly from within her aching chest as she imagined the words on the paper syncing to his melody. It still wasn't complete, but she could tell that, by the end of the project, it would touch the lives of every last one of them. It reminded her that Tatara might have been the most important member of their clan.


	16. Kickoff

**Kickoff**

* * *

_**September 4th, 2009**_

Stacking coasters absently in an attempt to make little houses might have been simpler if Misaki wasn't using round pieces of cork, and treating them like cards. What surprised Saruhiko, as he watched the base roll out from under the pile for the tenth time, was that Misaki didn't seem troubled. His short-tempered friend didn't seem the least bit concerned that he was failing, which was uncharacteristic for his peer. It frustrated him, even more, when he watched Misaki calmly pick up the pieces to start again… and again. Sure enough, when his cohort started stacking for the eleventh attempt, Saruhiko was the one to lose his temper. With a quick sweep of his forearm, he knocked all the coasters down and gathered their scattered remains.

"Oi, what was that for?" Misaki barked irately. "I was doin' stuff with those."

"Fix it. Now." Saruhiko moved the coasters out of Misaki's reach and slid his cobalt leer to where Neirah was sitting with Anna across the bar near the front window. The women were relaxing on the couch at the storefront, sharing a one-sidedly lively discussion, but overall, they weren't unapproachable. "Even if she says she _is_ mad about the other day, at least then you'll have some closure." It was pretty clear by the ear-to-ear smiles crossing Neirah's face that she was in a fine enough mood.

Misaki lurched towards his insensitive companion with a furious blush painted over his face. "Yeah, and it'll suck!" he commanded sternly. "We're part of the same clan. What the hell am I gonna do if she hates me?!"

"Join a different clan?"

"I'm serious, Fushimi!"

_Tsk._ Saruhiko rolled his eyes and flopped his head to the opposing side of his fiery comrade. "Look at it this way. If nothing else, we can all agree that Tsukiyo is one brutally honest woman. If she hated you, she wouldn't have any problem letting you know it. Why do you always have to make this harder than it has to be?"

"Because-"

"Because she's a girl?"

"You aren't being helpful!" Misaki checked his peripherals, not wanting to get caught peeking her way if she happened to be looking, but he lost his nerve half-way and diverted his empty gaze towards the bar's liquor stock instead. In a troubled tone filled with meek defiance, he uttered his retort silently against his folded forearms. "Why do chicks have to be so damn complicated anyways."

Even Saruhiko could admit that Neirah was unique in that regard. Raising his gaze from the view of Misaki resting his face in his arms on the bar, he brazenly checked where his friend had been too nervous. The pressure of resistance between the pair was palpable, and something about that had interested Saruhiko enough to be involved in their rocky relationship. Anticipating that what Yō had said days ago might be more valid than he comprehended, Saruhiko rushed his words out on his exasperated sigh. "Honestly, Tsukiyo might be the easiest woman to figure out that I've ever met."

Tensing heatedly against the rosewood, Misaki immediately twisted his frustrated pout towards his associate. "Yeah, but you're like the smartest guy I know."

Saruhiko's vacant expression dimmed to consider the familiar faces surrounding them, one of them approaching to prove his point. "Given the company you keep, that doesn't seem like much of a compliment."

"Oi! Yata-san! Wanna come out with me to Osaka?" Rikio's tone was pleasant and eager as he approached the hushed pair like they weren't rooted in their prior conversation. He threw out his hands and waved them around his head in a big circle, being as conspicuous as he could while he spoke, in Misaki's opinion. "By the bay with that big-ass Ferris wheel. There's a place there that just opened up this mochi stand-"

Misaki growled his impatience and subtly beat Rikio in the shin with the toe of his shoe to keep him quiet. It worked, aside from the ghastly howl of pain that came with the man reaching to grip his assaulted leg. "Dumbass! Shut your mouth!" he scolded irately. "Do you want everyone in the place to see how stupid you are?"

"That hurt!" Rikio whined. Although, it was difficult to tell whether the comment or the pain was easier to slough off. "What was that even for? Are you tryin' to be sneaky or somethin'?"

Ignoring Rikio's groans of discomfort, Misaki shifted his eyes towards his fixed shoulder before addressing Saruhiko. "Is she looking?"

Heaving an exhausted sigh, Saruhiko turned to check the couch, flopping his head lazily into his upturned palm. "Yeah, out the window."

On Saruhiko's inspiration, Rikio straightened and checked the storefront where the ladies were seated, then quickly diverted to where Misaki was heaving a calmed sigh. "Yata-san, are you having a hard time talkin' with Neirah again?"

Misaki knotted up his face snobbishly and sipped his drink. "None of your business, fatass. Just go eat your fuckin' cake."

Rikio looked towards Saruhiko for an explanation, which proved to be moot, so then he bunched his face when diverting towards Misaki. "Maybe I'll just go ask Neirah if she wants to come with me then."

Misaki snorted and turned away from where Rikio had tossed out his hands in surrender before departing. "Don't care, so long as you're not still callin' her _Nē-chan_," he mocked bleakly. Then, he straightened to shout after his companion. "Besides! We shouldn't be foolin' around out in Osaka! What if Mikoto-san needs us back here, huh?! Betchya didn't think of that, did ya, dumbass!?"

The last thing he wanted to do was spill any details to his instigating companion. Since he'd joined the Red Clan, Misaki had watched Rikio become even closer to Neirah, and he knew that if he divulged to his old chum, Neirah would know everything by that evening. It wouldn't take long for the savage beauty to extract the information from his spineless cohort.

Shaking away the thoughts plaguing his mind, Misaki turned up his nose and pressed his resistance. "Besides, that place is a tourist trap, and you'd be gettin' there late." His tone flattened sheepishly. "That whole damn place's gonna be packed with cheezie couples wantin' to get stuck at the top of that stupid wheel thing."

"You mean the one by the harbour?" Saruhiko instigated dryly. "Ever wonder if that's why he's askin' Tsukiyo to go with him?"

Misaki bumped his balled fists against the top of the bar, his face burning with bashful fury. "Great! Now I'm gonna spend the rest of the day with that creepy image in my head!" He buried both sets of clawing fingertips into his hair and shook his head in an attempt to shake out the materializing images. "What'd I just say about being helpful!?"

_Tsk._

Catching the sight of the commotion out of the corner of his eye, Izumo turned to watch Rikio throw his hands up and dismiss Misaki's poor attitude with a low growl. The view had quickly livened when Misaki began to flail like he'd seen something terrible, despite him being the only source of notable movement within HOMRA's walls. Figuring that Misaki's face was in a knot for the most obvious of reasons, Izumo approached.

"Whatever," Misaki growled in defeat. "Maybe he _will_ take Tsukiyo with him, and I'll finally be able to-"

Misaki yelped when Izumo trapped his head in a commanding clamp that turned it about a hundred degrees until he was facing the window where Neirah had just turned down Rikio's offer to spend the afternoon with Anna. But she didn't do so without first taking Rikio's hand between hers with a joyful smile, making him promise to bring her back something matcha-flavoured.

As soon as Izumo had retracted his fingers, Misaki was scampering around in his seat like a rubber band snapping back to form, the pigment in his cheeks deepening as he started to rave. "What the hell, Kusanagi-san?! Why did you do that?!"

"Talk. To. her." Even though Izumo felt like a skipping record, he couldn't bring himself to stop. "You're not some little kid. We shouldn't have to hold your hand for you to get up the balls to say you're sorry."

"He's not wrong," Saruhiko droned.

Misaki climbed to his feet, which coincidentally hadn't made him much taller than when he was sitting at the bar. "And just what the hell do I have to be sorry about?!"

"That's a good question," Izumo instigated dryly. "Why don't you ask her?" Honestly, Izumo felt like a better suggestion would be for Misaki to ask himself.

Misaki growled lowly as Izumo was called to a customer's aid, and began to mock the command under his breath. "_Why don't you ask her?_" he chimed in a faux-feminine tone. After correcting his rugged demeanour, he turned away from the bar entirely with a curt snort. "You know what, let's go, Fushimi."

Startled by the sudden command, Saruhiko dropped his head from his hand with a somewhat enthusiastic murmur. "Go where?"

"I dunno, anywhere!" he eagerly proclaimed. "Let's go hit up the arcade or somethin'. Maybe that's where Mikoto-san and Totsuka are."

Saruhiko was moments from keenly agreeing to join his friend when his hand was rising back to the bar to support his head, his tone flattening drearily. "You know what, on second thought, I'm not all that interested."

_Hn?_ Misaki cocked a brow, turning over his shoulder to face Saruhiko curiously before the pair were interrupted by the sight of someone walking through the bar door. It didn't hit them nearly as hard as the first time it had happened, but the moment Misaki's eyes met the fierce golden glower of their guest, he was forgetting his previous conundrum and raising his voice over the bustle of the afternoon bar crowd. "Oi! What the fuck is he doing here?!"

Tomaya slowly rolled his lethargic gaze over the bar to meet Misaki's passion. The dark circles beneath his eyes hadn't left, but they weren't any more ominous than they were the last time he visited HOMRA. He was relieved to see that neither Mikoto nor Tatara seemed to be around, but the splitting headache he nursed was certainly cursing Misaki's frantic hollering. "I'm not lookin' for trouble," he rumbled quietly.

Misaki bit out a harsh growl and lunged forward, continuing to shake the fist he flexed. "Then you'd better beat it, pal! 'Cause trouble's all you're gonna find here!" He turned to watch where Neirah hastened to her feet with a deep furrow in her brow, and a wicked grin curved his lips. He preferred not to be on the receiving end of Neirah's wrath, but unleashing the ferocious bombshell on their enemies was more than a little satisfying. "Yeah! Tell him, Tsukiyo-san!"

"Tomo?" Neirah's voice was a surprisingly gentle coo as she stood and made her way towards where Tomaya lingered just inside the building. "You're- I mean…"

_Hahhh?_ Misaki fled to Saruhiko's side as Neirah's face brightened with a grateful smile. "Wait- Why're you smiling?!"

"I'm so glad you're okay," she gently announced. "I mean, after everything that happened-"

Tomaya's amber eyes dropped for a moment, his fleeing scan making contact only a couple of times between escapes. "Y' mean, your _king_ didn't tell you?" There was still something bitter in his tone, but it wasn't nearly as callous as before.

She shook her head, but it didn't intend to deny him. "I just never asked," she admitted softly. "I trusted that if you were okay, we'd probably see each other again." Her expression darkened worrisomely. "And if you weren't… then I guess I didn't want to know."

The two startled when Misaki suddenly popped up between them, straining to meet Tomaya's threat head-on despite a significant height difference. "Hey, back off!" he spat vindictively. "Just 'cause Mikoto-san isn't here doesn't mean you can just walk on in like you own the damn place!"

"Yata."

When Misaki's gaze cut over his shoulder to where Izumo locked eyes with him, he faltered to the sight of the barkeep shaking his head. "Eh!? B-but Kusanagi-san-!?"

"Go sit down, Yata." Neirah's tone was frigid as she stepped past his flustered form to take Tomaya's side. "King-sama and Tetsuko have settled their differences. There's no reason to hold a grudge."

Misaki lowered the fingers that he wanted to use to stop her, his expression dropping with the plummet of his heart. "B-but… Tsukiyo…"

"If you don't like him, that's fine," she commanded sourly. "But Tetsuko is my friend." She turned her wanting eyes towards Izumo, who did no more than nod once to authorize the exchange. When she turned her gaze back to Misaki's, it was hardening with a warning. "I'm going to spend some time with Tetsuko now. Please don't interfere."

Misaki was left dumbfounded in the middle of the bar floor, waiting desperately for someone to say something to stop her. Knowing Tomaya's abilities terrified the rattled Misaki. The last time she'd gone with the unpredictable Strain, he walked in on them as they prepared for combat.

Unfortunately, the only one permitted to chase after her was Anna, and that made Misaki even more apprehensive. He reached out to the young Strain as she zipped past him in a light jog to catch up with Neirah, choking on his need to demand that all three of them stay within his sights. "Anna-chan, stay back!"

From where Anna had reached Neirah's hip and slipped her hand between the woman's tan fingers, she turned to shake her head towards Misaki. "Onē-san promised to spend the afternoon with me." When she turned back to look up at Neirah with bright eyes full of wonder, she made what looked like an attempt at a smile. "Is it okay?"

Neirah's heart warmed as she tightened her grip on Anna's hand before turning to face Tomaya. "Tomo, is it okay if Anna-chan comes? I did promise to spend the afternoon with her."

Tomaya looked down into Anna's kind garnet eyes, his expression heavy with fatigue and void of all conflict. Finally, he turned away with an indifferent shrug. "Doesn't make a difference to me."

"B-but-" After watching them depart, Misaki immediately turned to face Izumo in an attempt to beg reason from the man. "Kusanagi-san! Is it really okay to let Anna go too!?"

"Don't be so loud in the bar," Izumo gently reprimanded as he thrust Misaki into a free seat by his shoulder. "We've still got customers here."

Leaning forward onto the bar, Misaki hushed his tone but still crammed it with urgency. "But that guy-"

"Don't worry about it."

Misaki startled at the command and quickly turned to look outside over the empty streets.

Catching the boy's concern, Izumo sighed and admitted that slight divulgence might help to settle his riled nerves. "Relax, Yata-chan," he reassured him soundly. "That night, when you boys took out that mafia gang, Mikoto and Tetsuko came to terms, so to speak."

"Terms?!" Misaki retaliated bluntly. "I thought he went out there to kick his ass?!" He barked his agony when Izumo beat the butt of his palm over the vanguard's skull.

"What'd I say about yappin' like an idiot in the bar?" he repeated. "There's a time and a place, Yatagarasu, and this is neither."

Misaki groaned and clutched his aching head while Saruhiko shifted seats to join his side. He stayed quiet for a moment, but his presence was somehow comforting to the irked youth who was still trying to wrap his brain around the dilemma. "Hey…"

Groaning softly in pain, Misaki quietly turned one eye to face where Saruhiko was staring vacantly forward into the establishment. He didn't respond. Instead, he waited for the reprimand to come from his colleague as well.

"Wanna hit the arcade?"

Misaki's second eye opened, brightening to Saruhiko's thoughtful suggestion.

Saruhiko slowly turned and connected their gazes for a moment before continuing. "You know, to get your mind off all this."

Misaki's face lit up with bashful glee as he admired the ingenious man at work. "Hah! You bet I do!"

* * *

The silence between the trio of superhumans was far from comfortable, but nobody was feeling unsettled enough to walk stiffly either. Their feet guided them all on a meandering path because nobody had a destination in mind, much less taken the lead of their trek. Finally, Neirah made an effort when she realized there was a modest park set up on the edge of a narrow strip of sand. It consisted of a swing set and a couple of ugly steel creatures bound to the earth by a thick rusty spring. It wasn't much of an excuse to stop walking, but Anna did enjoy swings.

She turned her kind gaze towards the fair child, who still wandered patiently by her side. "Anna-chan, would you like to play on the swings?" She almost sighed her relief when the tender Strain nodded her head like she may have been hoping they'd stop. Neirah didn't bother asking Tomaya for permission as she released the dove to charge the steel frame. Walking the streets in silence wasn't what any of them needed.

That left Tomaya and Neirah alone to linger on the playground's edge, as uncertain of what to say as the last time they met. Neirah's heart grew heavier with every minute that passed, and soon, she was tipping her eyes to where the sight of his hands disappearing into his sweater pocket caused her to pause. She didn't know why it was the only thing she could think of at the time, but when her lips parted, she was helpless to do any better.

"That wasn't my boyfriend. The one that hurt you, that is," she admitted softly. She peeked up at his unmoved expression before turning to face where he was quietly observing Anna's play. "But… I'm sorry that he did." She was startled when he took his first step towards Anna, but even more so when he responded in a low rasp.

"Don't feel pain, remember?"

Tomaya was thankful that Neirah didn't automatically set a defensive lock on him when he began to move, but he was even more impressed by the bravery of the child to linger during his approach. When he was no more than a lengthened stride away from her, he stopped, looking down into her gentle gaze as she stared back up at him without the slightest hesitation. He could appreciate her courage and willingness to give him a chance that he had once so passionately denied her.

Neirah instinctively clutched her hand between her breasts, her forehead aching for how tightly it creased over the uncertain expression observing the situation. Anna remained on her swing, gently rocking back and forth in subtle ripples of motion propelled by her toes as Tomaya lingered. Then, suddenly, he spoke.

"Wanna push?"

Neirah's hand dropped, but she was thankful that was all when Anna eagerly nodded her head. She watched Tomaya let a modest smirk brighten his tired expression before he sauntered to the other side of the Strain and took hold of the chains just above her pale hands.

Anna's attention was immediately drawn to the scars deforming the right hand that Tomaya had used to stop Misaki's attack the night Neirah was held captive in the parking garage. He may not have been able to feel the pain of the attack, but the scars remained. She didn't say anything, though. Instead, Anna let him draw the chains back and release her to fall forward. Then, after her little legs kicked out and bent upon her return, he dusted his fingertips against the centre of her back to give her even more momentum.

"Tomo?" Neirah's gaze was filled with concern when she finally approached him behind the swing set, her thoughts jumbled to see him acting so casually with the child she knew he despised. "Is… everything alright?"

Tomaya watched Anna's legs flutter a couple of times beneath her skirt before he parted his dry lips to speak. "She's not a bad kid."

The furrow in Neirah's brow deepened, but she didn't pressure him. She understood very clearly that it was his way of dealing with the guilt of saying so many terrible things about HOMRA's princess. "No… she's not," she whispered. "She's a good girl…"

"And Suoh," he continued lowly. "He's not half-bad, either."

Through a sudden rush of breath, her grateful heart was aflutter as she sighed her relief and warmed her expression with a smile. "Three-eighths, at best," she whispered.

He reached out and gave Anna another push when she lost momentum and then stepped away to conceal his damaged arms again. "Yeah," he muttered awkwardly. Soon, it seemed the pressure he had put on himself had gotten the better of him, and he was beginning to rush his words. "Look, Nei-chan, I said some things-"

"Yeah," she mocked spiritedly. "You were a real jerk."

Tomaya quickly turned to the sound of her choked tone as it attempted to force her laughter, and when he did, he lost the abrasion stiffening his frame.

"But I forgive you." Neirah's smile broadened meekly, her cheeks rosy as she frantically wiped her tears away. "I'm so- so glad that you're okay." She tried not to look at the sadness on his face because it only made her want to cry harder. Instead, she covered her leaking eyes so that only her grateful beam remained visible. "After all that time, I didn't know how to help you. And it was all my fault, to begin with. Goya, your parents, all of it." She sniffed back her sentiment and gave a haggard cough, but her smile remained through it all. "I'm just… so glad."

Tomaya lowered his gaze, his guilt weighing his expression as it scoured the sand at their feet. "I'm… sorry." The words didn't feel natural rolling off his tongue, but he wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he never said them. "I guess… I was the one that ended up with dad's anger issues."

As pathetic as it sounded, Neirah burst out laughing, and this attracted the attention of the small Strain awaiting her next push. When she noticed Neirah's state, she quietly popped off her swing and snuck up behind Tomaya. Once she was at his side, she raised a red bead in front of her left eye to observe the situation.

Anna's stony effort made a wavy smile appear on Tomaya's once-hard expression as he glared down at her. "Man, you're a creepy little kid, y' know that?"

Anna didn't seem fazed by his statement. Instead of responding, she moved into his personal space and dug her hand into his sweater pocket to retrieve his scarred fingertips. Luckily, Tomaya was just too exhausted to care, but it didn't stop him from flinching to consider the kind sentiment.

When Neirah raised her drying eyes to the sight of Anna holding her marble in one hand and Tomaya's hand in the other, her heart began to palpitate nervously. "A-ah, Anna-chan? What are you doing?"

Anna made her second-best attempt at a smile. "Tomaya is in the circle."

Neirah startled and immediately turned to face where Tomaya was lingering awkwardly with a couple of his fingers held hostage by the sympathetic creature on his hip.

"Is that some kinda clan freak-speak that I don't get?" he crudely rumbled.

Neirah took a deep breath, filling her chest as she smeared the rest of her tears away and stepped towards them. "Tomo, have you ever considered… joining a clan?"

Tomaya let a blunt snort escape to deride her sentiment. "Nah, I'm kinda an all or nothin' kind of guy."

As relieved as Neirah was that the old smart-alecky companion she missed was starting to resurface, she felt a sense of urgency as she continued. "But I'm serious now," she assured him softly. "Tomo, the Blue Clan will be looking for you over your involvement in that incident with the mafia earlier this month. They already came after Yamata. But you have no one to protect you."

It had surprised Anna when Tomaya tightened his relaxed grip on her fingers, so she turned and looked up at him while he carried on the conversation.

"So what? It wasn't bad enough that he stomped my pride into the dirt, now Suoh's lookin' to throw handouts?"

Neirah swiftly shook her head. "N-no. That's not why I'm asking."

"I get it," he thundered. "I was a dick, okay?!" His tone had raised just beneath a full shout as his impatience grew. "But I'm still more powerful than any of you. I can look after my self."

Neirah whimpered submissively to the sudden harshness of his tone. No matter how badly she wanted to explain herself adequately, she couldn't, leaving her feeling trapped within her heart. She felt encouraged to gather Anna and walk away now that they had made amends, but that would be the same as abandoning him in his time of need. With the Blue Clan active again, powerful Strains were monitored, and if they became disorderly, detained. Tomaya was both.

She sealed her eyes tight and shook her head. She refused to lose him again after so long. He deserved a second chance, the second chance that her king couldn't give Eiko. So, she wracked her brain, asking herself repeatedly; _what would Tat-chan do?_ He wouldn't give up. As she raised her head with a determined intensity in her expression, she knew that much. "Tomo, I-"

"Well now, isn't this a surprise?"

Neirah's lips stilled to the sound of rushing footsteps coming to a halt, and when she turned over her shoulder, she met with the sight of a royal blue sea rising over the inland beach.

The one who spoke stood at the lead, his smile calm and amethyst eyes calculating beneath his glasses as he encouraged them up over the bridge of his nose. "We've had an awful time trying to locate you, Tetsuko Tomaya-san. I do believe we have the speed aspect of your unique abilities to thank for that."

Outside of his comprehension, Tomaya took a step back, his fingers shaking off Anna's touch only so he could cement it by covering her tiny hand with his. Whatever was standing in front of them had the delicate Strain quivering. As someone who also carried scars from the Nanakamado Chemotherapy Research Centre, he could sympathize with her apprehension. "Oh yeah? And who the fuck are you?"

The navy-haired man addressing them chuckled lowly, closing his eyes to consider the harsh words of his adversary. "My, is it really appropriate to speak so foully in front of such a young child? You will be a horrible influence on her upbringing."

Tomaya shoved Anna behind his back and took a step forward with his teeth bared. "Cut the shit, asshole, and answer the fucking question!"

Neirah's gaze darted between the members lined up orderly at the man's posterior, and when her eyes locked with the bright blue crystals of what appeared to be his second-in-command, her heart stopped. Her face immediately contorted in response to the dull and vacant expression meeting hers on the front of the militant machine ready to serve. "It's you…"

Neirah quickly turned to face Tomaya, a warning on her lips that never completed. "Tetsuko, that's-!"

"And Tsukiyo Neirah," the man continued regally. "How strange to see HOMRA's Red Lioness working with the same man who stood against her king not a month ago."

Neirah snapped her teeth together and reeled to face the arrogant man with her fingers dusting the chain at her hips. "Tomo," she commanded urgently. "Can I trust you to take Anna back to Kusanagi-san?"

"The hell?! And leave you here with these clowns?!" he denied. "It looks like they're here to throw down. I'm not goin' anywhere! You take the brat!"

Neirah bent at the hips, sinking her rear heel into the sand to brace her stance as her body began to burn with the slow lick of crimson flame. "Listen carefully," she cautioned. "I'm not doing this because I pity you. In my eyes, what you did today took more courage than I've ever seen from a man, and I truly admire that." Her burning gaze tapered on the mock-friendly smile displayed by her target. "But now that I've got you back, the last thing I want is to see you taken back into SCEPTRE4's care," she sneered protectively. "That man… That man is the new Blue King, Munakata Reisi."

Reisi seemed delighted by the introduction she'd provided. "As expected of HOMRA's hunter," he purred fondly. "But alas, my battle this day is not with Suoh's clansmen. It is with that Strain at your back." He raised his tone with authority and straightened to deliver his requisition. "Tetsuko Tomaya, I am here to take you into custody under Protocol 120 for questioning on your involvement in the Nanakamado Research Investigation, as well as for events to transpire last month with a drug trafficking incident involving a local gang of self-proclaimed mafia members."

Tomaya snorted brusquely. "Speaking of shitty upbringing, you lost me at 'hunter'. See, if you talk too long, I lose interest." He stepped ahead and took Neirah's side with his scowl reaching into a sinister smile to oppose her malcontent. "And then I get angry. For no good reason, sometimes."

"Tomo, not now," Neirah insisted under her breath.

"His fuckin' suit don't scare me."

"Men! Draw your swords!" Seri didn't bother connecting her gaze with the fierce burn raging in Neirah's icy cerulean eyes, even as she felt it pierce her. Instead, when the line at her back had drawn arms, she followed suit, closing her eyes entirely to remind the ruffian in front of her that she had the authority to pick a fight. "Awashima, ready on your command, Captain, sir."

Upon sinking his head with a disapproving click of his tongue, Reisi spoke in a low drone. "I'm disappointed in you, Tsukiyo-san. It would seem your upbringing was insufficient as well for you to have turned out so abrasive."

"I give respect where it's due," she barked confidently. "As should you, Blue King."

"How dare you speak to our king that way!" Seri retaliated. "Are you insinuating that the captain should somehow consider Suoh Mikoto his superior?!"

"That's quite enough, Awashima-kun," Reisi serenely interjected. "It is unbecoming of a lady to display such a passionate vigour."

"I apologize, Captain."

Neirah's scowl tilted until it was matching Tomaya's with a wicked simper. "What a good puppet," she mocked friskily. "Look at how obedient you are."

Seri's grip on her blade tightened, but she didn't retaliate. Instead, the tone of her voice escalated when she reached out for her king's command. "Orders, sir?!"

With an amused chortle, Reisi raised his hand to his sword, and with the delicate singing of its confine, he withdrew it from his holster. "Munakata, ready." Typically, he wouldn't draw his sword unnecessarily against a pair of red clansmen, a woman and a child, but the man between them had the capability of becoming a terror. He made sure to proceed with the appropriate caution in case Tomaya had decided to meet their demands with the anticipated resistance.

"So, shit's about to go down, huh?" Tomaya muttered beneath his breath. "What about the kid?"

"I already told you, you shouldn't fight them," Neirah reiterated sternly. "Mikoto-sama can protect my outburst under his jurisdiction. I don't have time to explain the politics to you, but you need to know that if they take you in, it's not going to be like the centre. Maybe that's a good thing. I wouldn't know." She turned to face him sombrely. "But what I do know is that I won't let them take my friend away from me again. Anna-chan is right. You're a part of my circle too, and so long as Mikoto-sama approves, I _will_ intervene."

"Is harbouring fugitives another skill that comes with the Third King's powers?" Reisi pestered impatiently. "I find it ironic that you stand next to two Strains who were once in the care of my predecessors."

To the threat she unintentionally received, putting Anna at risk, her fingers gripped her chain. "Tetsuko, I will ask you one more time to do me this small favour and take Anna home. Stay there until Mikoto-sama gets back and then tell him what happened. That is our starting point."

"Yeah right! I-" Before Tomaya could say anything else, Neirah was bolting towards the Blue King brazenly with her chain unfurling in a tornado of glittering links. As it rose, it took the park sand with it and caused their suited rivals to defend their eyes from the granules. It was true. She didn't ask him again. She just prayed when her distraction had faded, Tomaya would be gone.

Tomaya trembled with impatient rage to feel so insignificant, and it was hard for him to focus on anything other than those bitter feelings. That was when Anna's tiny hand found his and carefully guided him through the mist so that they could sneak away between some nearby buildings. "This way," she muttered.

Reluctantly, Tomaya followed, gritting his teeth the entire time. Tatara was right. He didn't understand a lot about the world around him outside of the centre, but if he had to trust anyone, it was Neirah. Something about the sympathetic Strain leading him away comforted him too. They came from the same place, suffered the same scars, and had found the same lighted flame to guide them forward.

By the time the whirlwind had settled, and Neirah was flipping into action, she was relieved to discover that Tomaya had obliged her command to leave, but unfortunately, the Blue King was missing as well.

Neirah's eyes flashed passionate vehemence when her spiralling chain got snagged on Seri's sabre, the look of confident posture on the woman's face making her want to heave.

"We meet again, Red Lion," Seri hummed flatly. "To think that Kusanagi Izumo would be so disturbed as to try and pass you off as his little sister. You would bring nothing but dishonour to the name."

Once Seri had noticed the chain getting hot enough to cause the steel of her blade to warp, she gasped and quickly dropped her sword arm, letting the chain return to its master. "Such a barbaric weapon," she apprehensively derided. After locking her stance and honing her focus, she narrowed her mistrusting leer on her opponent. "It suits a rowdy little hoodlum such as yourself."

The dismissive scoff on the tip of Neirah's tongue was musical as she reapplied her smile. "Finally, a chance to turn the tables on Onii-san," she purred under her breath. She was careful to observe the way every movement made the busty blonde's breasts flop, the way her microskirt barely covered her shapely rear. She took it all in and promised herself she would never let him tell her to conceal her HOMRA brand again.

With a menacing snicker, Neirah began her stampede, her fingers raking over her collar to catch the silk of her shirt and pop two buttons free. She wanted Seri to be sure that the woman to oppose her was a red clansman. It was her silent warning to the radiant beauty that she had just become a lion's prey. She stormed back into battle, her chain flailing around her head with enough precision that the ends didn't tangle. "If there should be a sign on the door warding anything off, it's you!"

Sharply jabbing her elbow into the links of her blazing chain, Neirah pivoted and kicked out her first kunai towards the woman's sword. Just before she heard the anticipated ringing of metal-on-metal, she was already walking over her head and dragging the stray dart through the air. Catching the tungsten on her shoulders upon its return, she wedged both knives in her hand to slow its momentum. Once the ends had met, she swung the bludgeoning force towards the blue lieutenant with both arms and stepped into the strength of her overflowing aura. The roaring flames caused Seri to raise her free arm and cover her eyes as sparks flew from their colliding alloys.

Nearby, one of the blue clansmen stepped forward to remind Seri that they still awaited further instruction. "Lieutenant Awashima-san!"

"Stay back!" Seri raised her voice and her palm to issue her command, leaping backward to a safe distance by her men as the fire raged before her. "I will keep the Red Lion at bay. Go assist our captain in capturing that Strain! I will join you once I've succeeded in neutralizing the threat before me."

When Seri turned to face the piqued young woman opposing her, her heart stopped beating for one split second. Beneath the thick auburn bangs distorting the sight of her denied gaze, the fires scorched just as violently as the ones spilling from her slender frame. She stood calmly, her chain limp between her hands as she stared at the disturbed sand between them, and when she spoke, vehement malice spilled from her luscious lips. "If you're fighting to win, you've already lost."

For a split moment, Seri doubted her position in the battle, causing her hand to quiver just once before she straightened her sabre. "If you're going to carry on about the power of alliance, spare me!" she barked intolerantly. "If Tetsuko Tomaya does return, it will be in chains by the command of the Fourth King Munakata Reisi!"

_Chains_.

Neirah could feel her temperature rise as she wrung the blood from her knuckles to choke the tungsten she clasped. She didn't intend to lecture the woman because, as far as she was concerned, Seri was a lost cause just for the colour she wore. But Neirah's confidence in victory didn't mean she couldn't fall in battle. Her success meant giving her friend enough time to avoid capture, expanding on the second chance he'd received from her king. If she won the opportunity to make just one last memory with the man she'd forsaken to a life of misery, she would have considered that victory enough.

"You hesitated…" Neirah's tone caused an uneasy shudder to steal the confident blonde maiden when she staggered back a step, avoiding the swell of flames. Her body was still relaxed, even as her clenched fists began to tremble, her head hung as her wild gaze watched the way the sediment beneath her reflected the light of her brilliance. Her dull murmur only thickened with callous strain as she continued, her voice escalating impatiently. "Do you know what hesitation leads to? It leads to doubt. Doubt leads to fear, and fear leads to weakness."

Neirah's eyes flashed as she raised her gaze to connect it with her opponent for a moment before her chain was coming to life around her burning body. "In my line of work, that split second of weakness can mean the difference between life or death, so if you don't have the heart to challenge fate, then stay out of my way!"

Seri didn't step down from the challenge despite her surprise for the passion guiding the ruthless hand of her opponent. The rumours hadn't adequately prepared her for what was to come. She deflected each blow from the whirling knives with extreme precision, stepping skillfully to the beat the musical notes played on her steel. Her second hand remained alert, ready to counter if the advance of her enemy forced her to improvise. She had expected underhand aggression, so when Neirah suddenly skipped the flaming chain and dropped its overhand swing behind Seri's shoulders, the blue clansmen propelled her lightweight figure backwards over its threat to nullify the tripping hazard.

When Seri landed stably with her sword still in hand, her full bust bouncing, she met with the sight of her enemy reaching behind her thick curtain of hair. Unfortunately for the Red Lioness, Seri had realized the last time they were in each other's company that there was more to her than met the eye. She wasn't startled when Neirah raked her spread fingers through the air, releasing one of her golden kunai with extreme precision and lethal velocity. With uncanny reflexes and a burst of cerulean interference, the knife clattered off her sabre to bury itself into the dirt by her feet.

Neirah couldn't help but smile and sway with her weapon as she twirled it absently in one hand. "Impressive," she purred devilishly. "I'm used to battling empty-headed goons, so this is a nice change of pace." In an instant, Neirah halted her chain by jarring it with her opposing forearm to silence its rattle.

Seri took her ready, her sword straitening overhead to hone in on her target against the length of her second arm. "Pride and purpose are not so different, but there is a fine line. Be careful, lion, or you might lose my interest."

With a dim snigger, Neirah jolted towards her opponent's challenge. "Are you insinuating that I can't have both? That my passion is somehow misdirected? Speak up if you're not afraid for me to hear you!" As Neirah wrapped the chain around her body, the movements of the darts became faster and faster, making them more difficult for Seri to deflect with a single blade. Then, when the progressing chain whip had no more room to shrink, Neirah let out the links with a staggering war-cry.

Executing a perfectly timed retreat saw Seri bent backwards over broad hips as the two darts shot past her nose at alarming speeds. Because Neirah had been travelling too quickly to return them, it forced the red clansman to dive over the athletic body of her blue rival. With a bitter growl, Neirah was tumbling through the sand to slow her propulsion, and a moment before her palm had reclaimed the misdirected attack, Seri caught the thick link at one end of her weapon by the tip of her sword and tossed it away like a venom-less snake.

The moment Neirah felt the cold tip of steel against her pulse, her heart rate began to hasten, and her searing grimace cut towards the confidence on her opponent's face.

"An opponent with purpose would yield," Seri instructed frigidly. "Unless pride is what truly drives you, in which case, your friend must mean little to you." Seri didn't hesitate the second time as Neirah bared her teeth and seethed impatience. "If you surrender now, there is a chance that the captain will be lenient with your companion after questioning." She tightened the pressure on her blade. "But if you are truly a demon of pride, then I will expect nothing less than your complete refusal, in which case, I should like to think you'll never lay eyes on Tetsuko Tomaya again."

Trust was a broken and manipulative card to be played in a cold and unforgiving world, and with Neirah's experiences, she'd desensitized herself to it. Without an ounce of hesitation, she jolted to her feet, barely grazing Seri's retreating chin with her upturned palm. Carrying her momentum with Seri's strategic retreat, Neirah toppled through the dust and reclaimed her loose kunai. After the swordmaster had retreated to a safe distance, Seri turned her crystal eyes on the sight of humour draining from her opponent's pretty heart-shaped face.

"I'm here because I choose to be." Neirah braced her martial stance and wove her knife skillfully through her raised fingers in preparation to take her weapon back from behind Seri's guard. "Ever since I can remember, I've plagued those closest to me with nothing short of disaster, but these people meet every challenge they face with fearless confidence and valour. So yes, I'm proud to face it alongside them." Without raising her tone, a sentiment past repeated in her head as she charged forward, flames rushing from her body to brighten the sky witnessing their battle.

To the hesitant thrust powering a brilliant blue light towards her, Neirah walked over her hands, weaving her lithe figure around the swell of enemy aura as she picked up speed. "I don't know where I'm headed just yet, but until I get there, I will proudly burn every obstacle that stands in our way with the passion I feel inside." When she dropped down to crack Seri's ankles with a flaming kick, the militant woman bounded sideways to defend. Just as she landed nearby, Neirah was already upon her a second time by the burst of crimson flame on her heels.

Neirah would never forget the look in Seri's eyes when the brunette's dark hair framed the unforgettable expression on her face as she vaulted over blue shoulders. For the first moment, since she had met the woman, she looked human. Then, with incomprehensible speed, Neirah had landed, drawn her leg tight to her core and unleashed a powerful kick into Seri's lower back. With a pained cry, she beat the blonde forward, her stance still stable as she watched Seri gather her sword and crawl to her knees.

"As for my _purpose_, that one shouldn't be too different from yours." Neirah's flat palms remained raised, her one knee elevated and locked in place, containing the kinetic buildup causing her focus to sharpen. "My purpose is my king's. Mikoto-sama believed that Tetsuko deserved a second chance, and I refuse to betray that hope by surrendering."

_Hope that one day, the power to do what you think is right won't come with chains._

Seri staggered under the pressure of the woman's words, her heart in her throat as her anger began to make her body tighten. "Are you saying that my purpose is somehow inferior to yours? Like my king?!"

Neirah lowered her pointed toe like she was preparing to pirouette rather than pummel surrender out of her enemy. "I'm saying that without pride, your purpose doesn't matter."

Calming her nerves as she climbed to her feet, Seri closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. When she straightened, she tipped one set of fingers to her waistline to adjust her jacket with a stern tug. When her icy gaze snapped open to focus on her target, sunlight ignited their frosted stare before the rising of her sword cast a shadow on one side of her face. As she clutched her sabre confidently at her centre, a serene cerulean glow surged like a cool blue flame around her. "I will tolerate no more of your disrespecting my purpose," she ordered in a sultry tone. "We at SCEPTRE4 advance with sword in hand to protect. With pure intentions, we will triumph justly."

A military force speaking of things like purity coiled a nasty knot on Neirah's face, but with a low, eager moan, her grin broadened, and daylight danced off the golden blur she wove between lean fingers. "Promises, puppet," she droned callously. In a sudden burst of volatile flame, her body combusted angrily, and the pressure of her kindling aura caused her wavy locks to twist like her smile. "Suppress me then. Let's see how your purity fares against my passion."

"Have at you!"

"Bring it on!"


	17. Kamerad

**Kamerad**

* * *

After obediently following Anna's lead down the street for a bit, Tomaya caught the sound of hastened footsteps approaching, and he felt his instincts kick in. He turned his tapered glower over his shoulder to survey the blur of navy dashing through the rooftops behind him, and his body tightened. "Shit, one of 'em tailed us. Probably their leader, if I had to guess." With a bitter sneer, he dipped down and scooped Anna's toes from the pavement. Because she didn't seem too concerned, he assumed she had already realized that someone was following them. "Sorry, kid, but we've got company. We don't have time for hide n' seek anymore."

Jolting forward with a speed that surprised a startled gasp from Anna's breathlessly parted lips, Tomaya glided down a side street. Due to his body's superior strength capabilities, it made his lunges swift as he powered off the earth with unbelievable force. In a moment that was too rapid for Anna to comprehend, Tomaya's heels had into the pavement beneath his black combat boots, and he was quickly springing down an adjacent backstreet. As he darted between passages, a cocky smirk curled his lips up to one side, hearing the gentle sounds of the Strain child marvelling. "Catch this, asshole."

Anna winced, tightly clenching Tomaya's shirt as he suddenly ground to a stop to the surging of an azure blaze. There was a delicate hum of concern on her lips when Tomaya growled to realize that the oceanic flicker was cutting off their escape into the busy street. When she opened her eyes, she raised her soft observation on the indecision in his face. His teeth clenched, and she could feel his body stiffen with the need to fight back, but Neirah had assigned him the duty of protecting precious cargo. The last thing he wanted to do was let her down again, and in the next instant, the world was shifting behind Anna's careful consideration once more.

Left, right, everywhere he turned his head, he saw blue. It came so quickly and precisely that he'd lost track of the way to HOMRA. Before they knew it, Anna and Tomaya had found themselves turned around and backed against a wall with the confident approach of the Blue King at their reverse. As Tomaya panted with exhaustion and seethed bitter vehemence, Anna took a moment to glance over his shoulder. It was evident that Tomaya was contemplating tearing the wall in front of him to pieces, brick and mortar. Anna understood that with the heaving contractions of his muscles. With a gentle coo, she lightly tugged on his sleeve to encourage him to face his foe directly. "Tomo… He's here."

"A valiant effort, Tetsuko Tomaya, but I think you will agree that victory has found its way into my hands this day."

Tomaya swivelled to face the brazen Blue King at his back and stumbled towards the wall like he had any further to go. "Oh yeah? Your hands ain't on me yet, buddy, and if they even come close, I'll bust 'em up so bad, you'll be usin' that sword with your teeth from now on."

Preparing to face Tomaya's potential threat, Reisi emitted a low chortle and rested his palm on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "Such an abrasive young man. I think I'm finally beginning to understand why Suoh seems to have taken a shining to you."

Tomaya calmly set Anna on the asphalt, steadying her until little white shoes made contact before encouraging her to linger behind his braced stance. "Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way," he assured her quietly. "Do you remember the way back home?"

Anna responded with a confident nod as Tomaya stared down his opponent. "Good. Just stay behind me until it's clear and then get to the other side of 'im. When I catch up, you point the way, and I'll make sure you get there."

"An admirable resolution," Reisi mocked dryly. "But, you realize that I have little to no interest in the child."

With a livid roar, Tomaya retracted his scarred fist, clenching it tightly enough to see the joints between his bones grind before he slammed the vigour into the pavement beneath their feet with his. He watched the force buckle sheets of concrete as they approached the Blue King, his sights focused on the attack that chased their unwanted guest towards the rooftops. At the mouth of the alley, startled screeches alerted them to the unintentional damage caused to the walkways beyond their reach.

"You charge as if I intend on posing a threat to the child at your back," Reisi announced curtly from his precarious perch. "Was I not clear? How many times must I assure you that she is not what I seek to obtain?"

Tomaya could see the calculation of Reisi's tapering violet eyes as he considered the risk. He hadn't drawn his sword, but Tomaya knew that the power he controlled was a relentless strength that he had little control over. If he flailed it around a bit and proved that he wasn't worth instigating within city limits, there was a chance Reisi might leave them alone. "Doesn't matter, shithead," he scowled under his breath. "Nei-chan asked me to take this kid home, so that's what I'm gonna do, whether you like it or not."

From where he landed safely atop one of the buildings, Reisi narrowed his gaze on the pair cautiously. He knew that Tomaya was rumoured to be dangerous, which was why the Gold King himself had wanted the specimen detained, but to keep local damage to a minimum, fleeing his attacks may not have remained the most strategic option.

Tomaya reinforced that suspicion when he barked out an agitated curse and beat the butt of his balled fist to one side against the structure, causing the entire frame of the building to crack and sway. Aside from the crumpled webbing left beneath Tomaya's point of contact, Reisi calculated that the building wouldn't topple, but it had undoubtedly disturbed his post.

Amidst a confident stride, Reisi stepped off of the building's ceiling onto a reflective blue disc, following the path of their appearance as he regally descended. His boots thumped to the ground and joined in sounding with the gentle grunt he expelled for the effort before he straightened, turning his hardening sights on the rebellious man at his front. "Let it be known, that if you force me to draw my sword, there is no guarantee that the child will not find herself unintentionally caught in the crossfire," he reassured Tomaya soundly. "In fact, there is no guarantee that she will escape harm if you bring down the entire district just to oppose me. That seems a little counterintuitive to your purpose." Reisi touched his spectacles before raising his confident gaze towards the youth. "Once SCEPTRE4 has taken you into custody, we will see that Suoh Mikoto's clansman is delivered safely to his domain."

"She didn't ask you, she asked me, so keep your fucking nose out of it!" The next wave of pressure to cut from the beat of his horizontally slicing forearm crashed through the alley towards the street like an invisible blade, cracking the brick to either side of the partitions pinching the road around them. The wind pressure caused Anna to gasp mildly and hold her skirt down modestly. But Reisi made that effort look childish as well, while shades of blue glistened into sight beneath the bright sun as barrier particles disturbed. On the inside of his protective bubble, the king hadn't so much as flinched.

But Tomaya couldn't do it with the scars of Mikoto's flames still clutching his spirit. It felt like the Red King's hand still wrapped around his heart, and every time he wanted to rebel with a racing beat, he remembered just how small he was at the feet of a true king.

Tomaya started to tremble, and when he felt the gentle touch of Anna's hand tugging on his sweater, the pain choked him. "She asked me… to do this one thing," he nearly snarled. He stared at his mutilated hand as it began to quake, and as soon as he noticed it, he tightened the grip until it stilled. Tomaya needed to fight, he wanted to obliterate anyone who would stand in the way of his success, but the last time he felt that way, he lost sight of everything important, like his friend, or the frail-bodied child at his posterior. Thinking about it had Tomaya's fist unclenching next to the skittish girl to reassure her of their situation. "After all I put her through, this's all she wanted outta me."

There was a lightly derisive scoff on Reisi's lips as he tightened the hold on his sword's handle, waiting to see what the Strain would do next and hoping he didn't have to draw it. He endeavoured to keep his anxiety from displaying to his target at all costs. "I see. It seems you've done some soul searching on this day and found it to be in need of cleansing." He straightened, lowering his aggressive guard to propose an alternative measure to the frustrated Strain that would keep him calm and property damage to a minimum. "Very well. You may escort the child to safety, and once you have, I expect your prompt surrender." His gaze tapered incredulously. "I believe that is more than generous considering what I expect to follow once you arrive."

Tomaya flew forward, outraged. "Like I'd just walk back out here and turn myself over to a pompous prick like you! Once I'm down the kid, you and I are gonna settle this with our fists!"

Reisi's expression grew sharp as he considered the irksome target before him. "Then, you will carry this guilt with you to a prison cell."

"Anna."

Tomaya shook to the sound of Anna's soft wheeze behind him, and without a second thought, the delighted young Strain bounded past the two men standing off in the alley. Like she was dancing on a breeze, she followed the weaving trail of cigarette smoke as it whisked from the bright and damaged mouth of the aisle towards Reisi. When she reached its origin, she turned to face Tomaya with a kind smile.

Rattling out a dim growl, Mikoto dropped his cigarette to the ground, smearing it into the concrete beneath his toe like it was a vent for his frustrations. Then, he stepped over the broken layers of the sidewalk down into the rut that Tomaya had dug. By the time Reisi had turned over his shoulder with a gentle hum of inquiry, Mikoto's teeth had already flashed in a sinister beam. "Long time no see, Munakata."

With a gentle sigh, Reisi met Mikoto's enthusiasm with a thin smirk of his own. "Suoh, what impeccable timing," he pestered. "I was just about to finish what you started. Care to witness my triumph?"

"The fuck does that mean?!" Tomaya snapped irately. When no response came from the man whose attention was stolen by a red rival, Tomaya addressed Mikoto instead. "Take the brat and go! Then I can bust open this bastard's head!'

"Oi!" From behind Mikoto's shadow, Misaki lunged forward towards the sight of Tomaya cornered in the alleyway. "What the hell was this shithead doin' alone with Anna-chan?!"

Saruhiko's expression darkened next to Tatara as he surveyed the situation with apprehension in his heart. No matter where his peripheral gaze wandered, one thing seemed to turn up missing every time. "And where'd he leave Tsukiyo?"

Unfortunately, Tatara was close enough to hear Saruhiko's words, and when he did. He was repeating them to sufficiently void Saruhiko's purposeful stealth of meaning. "What? Nei-chan was with them too?"

Despite the sound of Saruhiko striking his brow with his palm, Misaki didn't turn to observe the pair as he took a step back, wild eyes searching the small area for her presence. When he discovered that Saruhiko was right, his gut began to churn. "That's right." He could feel the tension in his king's body by his side, and he couldn't help but tighten up his guard in preparation for a scrap. "I knew it!" he raged while taking a lengthy stride ahead of his king. "You bastard! Where's Tsukiyo!?"

Misaki was startled by Anna's gentle tug on his shirt, so he turned to face the child with a supportive hum of curiosity. "Eh? Somethin' the matter, Anna?"

"Onē-san."

"What? Where is she?" he demanded energetically. "You know where she is, right, Anna-chan?! Can you take us there?!" To her quiet head-nod, Misaki gave an enthusiastic fist pump and cheered his command. "Great! Lead the way! Saruhiko, let's-" Tatara joined Saruhiko and Misaki in flinching when the thundering of heeled boots met their ears on the street by their backs.

"This way! I saw the captain pass by here!"

"The street! It's been completely destroyed!"

"Quick! The captain must be combating that Strain as we speak!"

"Shit…" Misaki hissed irritably under his breath. "It's the blues."

_Tsk_. Saruhiko stepped in front of Tatara, encouraging him behind the pair as he took Misaki's side with an impatient growl. "Stay out of the way. This could get dangerous."

Misaki immediately inspired with the ringing of three delicate blades sliding up Saruhiko's wrist in preparation to complete their vanguard force, and he couldn't help but shout his eager encouragement as he flopped his skateboard down on the pavement. "All right, that's what I'm talkin' about!" He was sniggering impishly to the sight of the armed reinforcement unit arriving with a start to the discovery of the Red Clan unexpectedly joining the fray. "We'll teach 'em better than to mess around in our business, right, partner?"

Saruhiko narrowed his leer on the unsteady clamour of new blades hesitating to leap into conflict without direct leadership. "They're nothing like the Minato twins. Even I could hold a sword better than these clowns. You can tell they haven't been at this for long."

It was hard to tell whether Misaki's devious chortle was a snigger or a snarl as he inched forward. "S' probably why they need so many of them. What a buncha newbs. Come on. Let's waste 'em!"

"Wait, Yata-chan! There has to be another way!" Tatara prattled worrisomely. "I mean, I'm sure there's a reason why Nei-chan's not here, and I'm sure this all looks much worse than it actually is, so let's not do anything drastic yet, okay?"

Tomaya slowly straightened, watching the sight unfold. Armed men in blue lingered at the mouth of the alley, detoured only by the resistance of two eager red clansmen preparing for battle. At their backs, the kind and smiling Tatara continued to discourage conflict between the sides ready to clash. Deeper in the alley, Anna lingered by her king's hand as he sized up his blue counterpart, and then, at the end of it all, he watched his purpose fade.

Neirah had asked very little of him in return for her forgiveness. First, she asked if Anna could join them for a walk, and second, she asked that the child be cared for while she fought for his freedom. It was clear to him that Anna was important to HOMRA ever since they'd liberated her from Mizuchi Kōshi's care. In that devastating moment, Tomaya realized why Neirah chose against him the day he'd first dragged her away from home, and he wondered if he ever deserved her forgiveness in the first place.

"Enough." His rumble was low and filled with authority as it reverberated between the buildings. When Misaki was still intent on drowning him out to deny Tatara's peaceful suggestion with his raving, Tomaya's tone escalated. "I said enough, you little punk!"

Misaki silenced in the next instant, turning his rage on Tomaya. "The hell was that you just said to me!?" he barked intolerantly. "Sit down and wait your turn! You were on my list anyway, so I hope you're ready for me to mess up your other arm too!"

"Yata." When Misaki turned his bright and respectful gaze on his king's shoulders, Mikoto continued. "He's right. That's enough."

Mikoto let his gaze pass Reisi's for a moment and then connected golden irises with Tomaya to watch emotion flicker over the exhausted Strain's face. He'd been running for too long and from too many threats, but escaping yourself wasn't an easy task. Frankly, Tomaya was sick of it, sick of running, and sick of hurting the only person who was left to care about him. Mikoto could see that.

"What's this?" With his rude interruption, Reisi turned to face the unruly Strain. He kept a slighted grin on his face marking his arrogance and ironic sense of entertainment for the struggling of his prey. "Have you finally decided to listen to reason. And at the command of the Red King, no less. Here I thought his mere presence would goad you."

"Shut up!" Tomaya snapped lividly. "I don't need to waste my time with you!" When the space between them fell silent again, Tomaya raised his desperate gaze to Mikoto's and tried to decide why the Red King was the only one out of any of them he wanted to acknowledge, fear, respect. "Suoh." He bowed his head, hating every second his body shivered just being in the presence of the man who forced him to surrender before raising his hand in a challenge. It was humiliating, even more so when their only witness was standing nearby. Unfortunately, the pain of his shattered pride was nothing compared to his aching heart as he failed the only one left that he could call his friend. "I tried to… I wanted to, but you weren't…"

Tatara stepped forward slowly with a gentle smile, appreciating the strength it took for Tomaya to approach their king like he had suggested the night they parted ways. "It's fine." When Tomaya immediately shot his glance towards Tatara's kind expression, the man didn't hesitate to continue. "Everything will work out in the end."

"I wasn't talkin' to you, so stay out of it…" Tomaya grumbled sullenly.

"E-eh? S-sure thing!" Tatara whimpered sheepishly. "Sorry for interrupting you two."

Tomaya looked down at his feet, wondering how long they'd been moving without direction. It was too late to talk, too late to sort out the way he felt about the world around him. He was learning it as he went, and all too quickly. Tomaya was learning that no matter what he did, he had lost before he'd even begun. He had no one to blame but himself, and a dead man. "Suoh, you said… that she was happy… right?"

Mikoto's hard expression softened to consider Tomaya's words, and he bowed his head with a gentle sigh. "Yeah."

"Not today…" His words choked as he avoided prying gazes, the way his weakness surrendered to the forces surrounding him. He could have all the power in the world, but he would kneel to their reign every time because he wasn't brave enough to face his past and the only truth that mattered. After he lost everything, she was there, risking everything to save him when he couldn't admit he needed the hand to extend for him. She had reached for him just as Tatara had, but there was only one hand he was interested in taking. "Today, she was crying."

Misaki startled, his hesitant gaze wide and filled with worry as his words slipped past his lips in a rough whisper. "Crying…? Tsukiyo was…?" It had to be a lie. Neirah was hardly capable of such a thing.

Tomaya threw his head to the side, trapping his weakness behind his ire as he shook away the need to shed tears in front of the powerful presence of two kings standing before him. He wouldn't fall to his knees a second time, but his heart had already surrendered. "Look, the stupid brat's where she belongs now, so it's over, right?!" He refused to look into the sweet child's calm eyes as he hissed out a hard breath and tried to ignore the congestion of his tone. "It's over…"

Reisi seemed startled, at first, to the sight of Tomaya's head bowed, but after a moment of careful consideration, he offered the man an understanding smile. "Have you decided to turn yourself over for questioning? I certainly wouldn't overlook such cooperation."

There was a hot flash of warning in Tomaya's gaze as he raised it and connected with Reisi's. "Don't look down on me, scumbag," he snarled beneath his breath. "My king's always been red."

With the encouraging tug of Anna's hand against his jean pocket, Mikoto sighed and pressed forward. He caught Reisi's glance conceitedly for a moment, the wicked smirk on his lips, encouraging the Blue King to roll his eyes. Every witness there could tell that the pair weren't off to a great start, but it was clear that day that Reisi had seen a side of the Red King that was worth offering the respect Neirah encouraged. In mere minutes, Mikoto's presence defused the volatile situation and calmed the riled Strain in front of him, ceasing an unnecessary struggle and saving millions of yen in property damage.

Tomaya refused to raise his gaze to Mikoto's after saying something so humiliating. But as Mikoto lingered with Anna on his hip, his hands in his pockets, Tomaya couldn't deny their patience forever. "I'm not lookin' for your protection," he admitted bleakly. "That's not what this is about."

Mikoto didn't press the issue any further as he spoke. "They can't keep you locked up forever," he rumbled softly. "We'll take care of her in the meantime."

Tomaya felt the burn in his throat begin to match his eyes as he hunched over his retching stomach. When he did, he saw something he never thought would comfort him.

Mikoto carefully observed the boy as he held out his hand, his expression even as he recalled the day Eiko had reached for it with his last breaths. Tomaya wasn't dying, he was still learning how to live, but the weight of their purpose felt the same. It was about a hundred and sixty-two centimetres tall and fifty kilograms heavy.

When Tomaya clapped his hand into Mikoto's, Anna watched Mikoto's red surge like it felt uplifted, but Tomaya remained colourless and bland in her eyes. It wasn't the ending that she was hoping for, but it was one that she had predicted. A fond smile attempted to crack her porcelain expression as she watched Tomaya straighten with pride despite his wounded ego. "Mikoto's red is the brightest."

_And she believed that it could save a cold, colourless world._

"I… Thanks," Tomaya muttered humbly. He wanted to say more, but for some strange reason, he felt like Mikoto already understood him. With a meek smile, he passed them by and dropped his palm on Anna's head. "See you around, squirt. Take care of the big guy for me, kay?"

"Okay," she delicately crooned.

Tomaya's gaze immediately hardened when he approached the Blue King, but he didn't go back on his word. "What're the chances you'll let me make amends before you drag me off into hell again?"

"My, my, to regard SCEPTRE4's accommodations, I surrender that they may lack comfort. However, coming from the lips of a Purgatory fanboy, you'll have to forgive my sense of irony." Reisi snickered at the thought. "You're a rather bleak individual, aren't you, Tetsuko-san?"

"Slim. Got it. That's all you had to say, jackass." He shifted his gaze to where Misaki was trying to wrap his head around everything that had just transpired, and he couldn't help but smile. "Tell your little girlfriend I said _catch ya later_. Just do it from behind somethin' 'cause she's gonna be pissed that I managed to screw this up."

Misaki didn't know why the casual announcement infuriated him so much. Still, when he considered just how many witnesses were around him to hear it, he became dizzy with humiliation. He never regretted saying anything so much in his entire life. "Hey! Blue King! Make sure he doesn't get out anytime soon, y' hear?! I don't wanna lay eyes on that bastard again for a long time!"

With a bright and innocent smile beaming just behind Misaki's frustrated posturing, Tatara couldn't help but delight in teasing his younger clansmen. "Yata-chan, you didn't tell me that you had a-"

"Ahn, shut it!"

Mikoto diverted his humble gaze towards Reisi with a low groan. "Does that mean we're done here?"

Reisi raised his gaze from where he shackled the reluctantly agreeable Strain and returned it to Mikoto. "Not quite, Suoh," he proclaimed musically. "There is still the matter of your hunter." He left Tomaya in the care of his clansmen before nearing Mikoto's side. "Seeing as our battle today has nothing to do with you or yours, I would appreciate it if you called off your clansman."

"What can I say? She's a beast of territory," Mikoto rumbled friskily. "That kid takes after my own burning heart."

Reisi's face tightened with the restraint it took him to keep an impatient grimace from his expression. "I took notice. Though, I would hardly consider that a compliment, by any measure."

Overhearing their confrontation, Misaki rushed towards the pair eagerly. "You mean Tsukiyo-san!? She's okay? This bastard didn't hurt her, did he?!"

Reisi turned his attention towards where the red clansmen began to congregate around their king, failing to feel threatened in the least. "That depends on the state in which my lieutenant has left her," he instigated slyly. After taking a brief moment to consider the events to unfold, he admitted to himself that he had seen the Red King in a different light. The light was still a shade of red, but a less violent and disreputable one. Something about its glow had impressed him that afternoon, not that he would share the news. "Shall we go see?"

* * *

With the toe of her boot still submerged in a dishevelled sea of sand, Neirah pressed her breasts into her rival's shoulders as she pinned Seri's twisted arm between their bodies. Seri's sabre rattled to the ground at their feet with a whispering thud in the granules, leaving her to battle the savage beauty behind her hand-to-hand. Luckily, she managed to get the knife away from her current captor, but Neirah's nimble dancing was hard to keep up with when it was shrouded in flames.

As Neirah's pressure increased, her wicked beam broadened, and she leaned her lips into the curvaceous blonde's ear to murmur her dull warning. "I'm going to twist your body in ways that you never thought possible." Her vague promise was venomous as she broadened her stance and hoisted the woman to the tips of her toes with an agonized cry. "Which will take considerable effort on my part, considering how flexible you already are."

"Unhand me this instant, you little demon!" Seri commanded in a bellowing tone. "Conflict between clans is strictly forbidden! If you continue with this meaningless squabble, SCEPTRE4 will have no choice but to take action against you as-"

Neirah's teeth ground with sadistic delight as she gave the woman's wrist another sharp twist to cause her delicate yelp to interrupt her prattling. "I'm sorry, but this sounds so much sweeter than that other nonsense you're spouting. Listening to you talk reminds me of the homework I know Onii-san is going to be harping on me to complete this weekend. It bores me."

"Lion-chan!"

With the sound of Tatara's musical voice cutting over the sandbar, Neirah perked alertly and released the woman like they never quarrelled in the first place. She warmed to the sight of Tatara approaching with Anna nearby, and not far behind, she caught sight of her king. That was how she knew that Tomaya had made it back to HOMRA, which meant that there was no need for her to carry on with her battle.

Upon her release, Seri took the opportunity to drop to the sandpit and reclaim her sword quickly. In that brief time, however, Neirah was already trotting off towards her roommate, leaving her weapons among the grit. The effort of turning her back so carelessly on an enemy made Seri writhe with insult.

The audacity made the blushing Seri shudder wrathfully. "You walk away from your weapon so casually… So, my threat doesn't mean a thing to you, does it?" she muttered bitterly under her breath. With a passionate roar, Seri's elevated tone cut over the delight in Neirah's to stagger her retreat. "Are you going to rely on your friends to save you, after all!? Are you so cowardly?!"

From where Neirah stopped next to Tatara and Anna, she turned a somewhat stern expression towards her stiff opponent. "Don't be ridiculous. My friends are my greatest strength."

Seri startled at the impact of the woman's sudden shift in demeanour, and just when she was about to press the matter, she heard the low rumble of her Blue King making her aware of his return behind her armed stance. "Awashima-kun, stand down," he reassured her softly.

Despite the command, Seri still whirled to face his decision with her sword clutched tightly in her hand. "C-captain Munakata, sir?"

He offered her a comforting smile from where he delayed with their forces lingering like his hands behind his back. "We have apprehended Tetsuko Tomaya. There is no need to continue."

The moment Seri's expression brightened with joy for their success, Neirah was overhearing the command that caused her to twist and face them with devastation on her face. "What did he just say!?"

Before Tatara could open his mouth to explain, Mikoto had grown near enough that Neirah could see that he wasn't with Tomaya, and his expression wasn't reassuring. Instead, what she noticed to either side of his reverse was HOMRA's vanguard, half of which looked far too guilty for words.

She jerked her attention nervously towards Mikoto as she listened to the sound of the Blue Clan's departure, but what concerned her was the sombre look on his face that admitted he didn't know what words were appropriate to break her heart with. It was the same look he had given her the day that he had refused her suggestion to join his clan.

That was when Tatara was interrupting, resting his hand on her shoulder as she continued to stare into Mikoto's eyes in search of hope. "Nei-chan, you see, Tetsuko… He decided that maybe it would be best to be with SCEPTRE4 for a while." Noticing that she wasn't going to tear her eyes from her king's, he continued and lowered his reassuring touch. "Don't worry. He may finally find the answers to all the questions he still has about this world. I'm sure it'll all work out in the end."

Suddenly, something deep inside her triggered at the thought that Mikoto had witnessed Tomaya's capture and did nothing, so when she turned her vacant stare towards Misaki on Mikoto's right hip, the vanguard shuddered like she'd shot right through him.

Misaki felt pathetic for hiding, for blushing and rushing his words out like he was a child, but he couldn't help being intimidated by the pressure of the rage building within the Red Lioness that afternoon. They may have had times where they could share a pleasant moment or two, but she was still fierce. "Ah, h-hey, Tsukiyo… I uh… mean… w-we just happened to bump into Mikoto-san at the…"

From Mikoto's left side, Saruhiko dropped his weighted gaze towards the sight of the tangerine sand at their feet, its texture shimmering beneath the dipping sun. "Yata… she knows." He didn't know what disappointed him more, the look of betrayal on Neirah's face or the sound of Misaki's devastation as it begged her forgiveness. Probably the thing that he hated most was that he somehow felt responsible for letting things turn out the way they did, even if it was only for doing nothing to prevent it. His defeat was Misaki's defeat, and Misaki's pain was his pain.

Misaki stepped away from Neirah's intensity, joining his friend on the opposing side of their king as they waited for Neirah's response, but all they heard on the gentle breeze rippling the water of the koi pond nearby, was a whisper filled with defeat. "Yata, you rat…"

In an instant, she was the tender woman he'd enjoyed a pleasant afternoon with on the top of the tallest building in Shizume's business district. The sinking sunlight even reflected on her tan features the same way. He hated it. All at once, the mystery crashed into him and had his heart racing. If she was strong enough to stand by their side, he didn't understand why he always felt like he let her down, like she'd ever needed his help. All Misaki wanted was to show her that he cared about her like he had for any of the other men he called his friend. Instead, every time Misaki tried to support her, he ended up getting in her way. Yō was right. They couldn't find the same page.

But more than anything, he hated her eyes. Misaki felt the sting of defeat deep within his chest, and the shame coloured his cheeks with shades of his failure. All he could think about when her devastated gaze pierced him was a grim warning that as soon as he stopped watching her back, she was going to need him like he hadn't expected to need her that night in the parking garage. Like he had always expected Saruhiko to be the first to his aid, she had Tatara. But the one time Tatara wasn't there, he knew there was a chance that she might find a use for the man who kept stumbling around behind her trying to make himself useful. All he could do was hope that he hadn't ruined everything irreparably before that time came, if ever.

_A hope that, someday, she would find a place for him in the pages of her story._

* * *

Misaki hadn't removed the knot in his face that warned that at any moment he would break. Nobody was quite sure what would escape when he did, though; tears, rage. In the meantime, they let him be. Even Saruhiko had remained quiet as he oversaw Misaki's festering turmoil. All the while he watched the dam crack down the centre ready to erupt with undetermined emotion, Misaki hadn't taken his eyes off their huntress.

Neirah had lost the bleak look of defeat that she carried that afternoon. Instead, her burning eyes flashed vehemence as she shouted her defiance towards Izumo at the edge of the bar, battling the way he'd reprimanded her for stepping against command. Mikoto hadn't seemed too concerned about it, but from what Misaki gathered, Seri and Izumo looked to have known each other somehow. It sounded like Seri had reported Neirah to be acting out. Izumo mentioned the Gold King a few times, and every now and then, he would shudder to the sound of his name on her lips. It was bitter, spiteful, even. It sounded so ugly as she screamed it, and it made his heart drop every time he heard it. Because he did precisely as Izumo had commanded not to and tattled to Mikoto, Tomaya disappeared from her life, and it was all his fault.

Tatara was sitting quietly with Anna in his lap at a table near the bar, his attention drawn equally between Neirah and Misaki. He could tell that Izumo was instigating her temper, helping her to bleed the strain out of her system before she became volatile and combusted. Outside of Neirah's comprehension, Tatara had always believed that Izumo kept the best understanding of her as a woman. Izumo had seen the fuse from the start, and it was only a matter of time before something lit it again.

Since their fallout with the Raikōjū Ka, they had put out the flame, but the fuse had grown shorter with each outburst. The last thing Mikoto needed was an all-out clan war with the freshly resurrected Blue Clan, even more so was another reminder from the Gold King that they were child's play on his table. He knew that once she'd burned the energy, she would settle, but it was hard to watch her suffer without the means to calm her troubled spirit. If what Izumo said was accurate, and he was a beast tamer, then the Red Lioness should have been easy to manage compared to their king, but she wasn't. It took more than one key to lock away her dynamic force. It took three, to be exact.

Then, there was Misaki. Tatara could see it in the way Saruhiko began to tread cautiously around a colleague that he was more than content with riling on any given occasion. This one was different, though. It made Tatara wonder what Saruhiko knew that the rest of them didn't. It might have been that their disconcerted clansman didn't have the patience to deal with tears or a tantrum. But their quiet understanding of each other also warned that many words had transferred between them without being spoken.

That led Tatara's gaze towards his king. Since the day he'd met Mikoto, he'd felt it. It wasn't something he couldn't explain, and maybe that was, in part, because he couldn't comprehend it. Anna had noticed it too, and in an instant, but they all shared it, to some degree. Mikoto acted like the hub for his clan, taking their pain, their happiness, and anger in through himself before distributing it among members. When one of them was hurt, they all hurt, and they all felt it when Neirah turned to storm out of the bar with a bitter shriek. But somewhere along the lines, Misaki and Neirah's connection had either been dropped or hadn't been appropriately forged. It was hard to tell whether it needed repair or to be constructed like Izumo repeatedly encouraged.

But when Tatara watched Misaki flinch like he wanted to chase after the distraught woman, he considered the third option. The moment Misaki had motioned to climb to his feet, Saruhiko's hand was folding around his wrist and encouraging him to reclaim his seat. It wasn't an unwise decision, considering not even Yō or Rikio chased after her this time, but it wasn't the one Misaki wanted to obey. It made Tatara believe that there may have been a second hub interfering with the natural flow of communication between clansmen expecting the signal from their king.

Izumo's weighted sigh cut over the grave silence stealing the bar with Neirah's departure, and his exhaustion drew his palm heavily to his brow so he could scrape it through his bangs. "That damn kid is gonna be the death of me," he muttered absently.

"Don't let her hear you say that," Mikoto teased in a low rumble. "She'll think her curse is back."

"Mikoto, I swear," Izumo growled. "The next one is all yours. It was you who wanted her here, in the first place, so try to show a little responsibility when she flares up like a goddamn psychopath, would you?"

"She just played around with her a little bit," Mikoto calmly justified. "If you ask me, it wouldn't hurt for them to learn early on that they should take us seriously."

Izumo barely caught the faint groan in his throat from escaping as he straightened with one hand on his hip. "How do you expect them to do that when she's out there acting like a bratty little kid?" he reasoned callously. "You spoil her too much, and now it's gonna wind up gettin' you into a heap of trouble. If she goes out there and busts up SCEPTRE4 to get that Strain friend of hers back, it'll be your loss."

Izumo startled to the feeling of Tatara's hand on his shoulder, and when he tipped his head to the side, Tatara's reassuring smile was beaming confidence in their furious clanmate. Even though he wanted to continue to be upset with the spectacle, he couldn't help but feel uplifted by the sight of Tatara's confidence. He wasn't sure how their unconfrontational companion managed to be so reassuring, but it was a welcome gift, in his opinion. "Let me guess," Izumo murmured dryly. "It's fine, isn't it?"

With a giddy laugh, Tatara said no more and approached their king. After connecting gazes with the downtrodden beast, he reached his lax fist out in front of him, bopping it into Mikoto's open palm. "King's too busy protecting her to give her lectures, Kusanagi-san. You know that's your job."

Izumo's groan finally escaped, and it had escalated with doubt. "Oh yeah? Protecting her from what? _Reality_?" he sassed. "That's a thing, y' know."

Turning away from their king's silent approval, Tatara beamed his reassurance towards their worried friends. "I'll talk to her," he gently diverted. "That's how this goes, right? King brings her home, you yell at her, and I calm her down."

After taking a moment to consider the accuracy of Tatara's statement, Izumo smiled calmly to himself and dismissed their resident peacekeeper. "Yeah, you're right… She's your problem now, Totsuka." After Tatara left the building, Izumo lightly sniggered as he dropped his hips against his bar and lit himself a much-needed cigarette to calm his nerves. "Shit, I dunno what I'd do without that kid, I tell ya."

The sharp jingle of his lighter snapping shut announced the raise in his head so that he could watch Tatara leave in good spirits like the entire kerfuffle had never occurred. Maybe ignorance was bliss, but someone had to keep the risks in mind so that they didn't end up creating more problems than they could handle. It wasn't easy managing their newer members and their confrontational seniors. Having Tatara there to keep the balance from shifting had proven to be a lifesaver. "Some days, I think he's the only one holdin' this whole damn thing together."

* * *

The breeze carried crisp smells of fall leaves and chilling sea spray on its inland gusts as Neirah lingered on the rooftop of her apartment facing the wind. As her hair whisked wildly behind her, her knees drew tight to her chest and her arms folded around them so she could stare into the night skyscape with a heavy heart.

She felt them that night, more onerous than they had ever been when she considered her loss that day. They were the chains her king had spoken about the night hers lifted. The chains that kept someone from doing what they thought was right had become something that she finally shared with her leader. Maybe if she could have helped Tomaya sooner, if she had known where to find him, if she had never cursed him in the first place, he would be there sitting by her side. Perhaps Neirah wouldn't be the person she was that day if she'd never met the Red King, but she still couldn't regret anything that led her there.

But that didn't mean she couldn't burn.

Letting her aura calmly spill out around her hunched frame, Neirah took notice of the low rumble sounding from an engine droning over a significant distance, and when she tried to locate it below, she failed. It wasn't until she instinctually looked up into the stars that she found the warning lights of aerial traffic dotting colour on the black and white canvas before her.

"Well, at least you didn't throw a knife in Kusanagi-san's bar this time."

Without turning over her shoulder, Neirah closed her eyes and touched her lips to her knees with a gentle moan, subsequently retracting the crimson glow illuminating her chilled body. "I'm not in the mood, Tat-chan."

As usual, Tatara didn't hesitate to break the lock on her heart and welcome himself in. He popped his collar to break the wind and took a seat next to her with both arms wrapping around his one raised knee. He was careful not to let her notice that he dusted away the sight of her halved cigarette's remains from the spot he sat. "Ah, the Silver King's airship," he casually stated. "It's been a while since I've seen it this close." He laughed uneasily. "Then, I don't spend much time on the roof, do I?"

"Not since you got that guitar of yours…"

Realizing that it was going to be a little more complicated than usual to coax a pretty smile from her lips, he let a gentle sigh interrupt his optimism and turned sad eyes towards her. "Nei-chan, are you going to be alright? You know I'm here for you."

"I was too late," she muttered lifelessly. She buried her blushing face against her knees with a gentle moan of defeat. "I didn't even touch him this time."

Tatara smiled slightly and rocked his head from side to side, conceding that she wasn't as heartbroken as she was angry. It made it easier for him to believe that she would bounce back in no time, so he tried to avoid the topic altogether. It helped that he had an ulterior motive. "You know, I think Yata-chan is pretty upset."

Neirah startled attentively, jerking her head from against her thighs with a mild gasp. "You mean about Tomo?"

With a gentle laugh, Tatara tilted his comforting smile towards his roommate. "No, you."

His announcement seemed to vex her. "Me?" She turned away and wrinkled her nose beneath a creasing brow, finally reconnecting their gazes. "Did I do something to upset him?"

Tatara closed his eyes and enjoyed the wind dusting his bangs from his face for a moment. "Out of curiosity, do you remember last summer? When you made Wolf-kun think you were angry with him? Well, Yata thinks you're pretty angry."

Neirah snorted curtly and wriggled to get the feeling to return to her numbing tailbone. "If he thinks I'm angry, it's because I am."

Opening his eyes, Tatara scrutinized her pouting. "Are you angry with him?"

There was a long silence on the rooftop that night before her defeated expression returned with her soft voice. "…no."

"You know he's the one who found King and I." He leaned his head against his shoulder so that it was supported while he observed her. "He said he was worried that you went off with Tetsuko on your own. It seems to upset him when you put yourself in dangerous situations."

Neirah watched the traffic bustle below in the dreary world that she'd left behind. Like Tomaya, she thought that it was a part of her past, but as her universe expanded, it began to consume the small ones around it. Gin, Tomaya, and even her father were becoming as much a part of it as Tatara was. With SCEPTRE4's revival, things that she had never considered before, like the lives of the skittering insects at her feet, were to be taken into consideration. Otherwise, it could spell trouble for their king. As she watched the airship slowly putter through the vast skies above, she wondered if that was how the First and Silver King felt about the red and blue clans beneath. It made her wonder just how wide the world could open up beneath her feet before she wouldn't be able to keep up.

Maybe she had become too prideful, but spite would drive her to deny ever learning such a thing from Seri that day. Just like it would keep Seri from ever admitting that she could stand to be just a little more passionate. Neirah had challenged the woman conceitedly and thought her mighty king would protect her victory. But she had failed her purpose. Despite her passion and pride combined, Tomaya ended up in the hands of the fresh Blue Clan. The part that frustrated her the most was that maybe the reason she was more angry than sad was that she wasn't doing it for lost time. She was doing it to relieve herself of the guilt she carried over the years she spent bringing harm to those close to her.

She didn't take the time to understand things like Tatara. She hadn't taken the time to understand Tomaya. She couldn't see every thread in a tapestry if she burned it for blocking her view.

After another long bout of silence, Tatara began to instigate conversation again. "The sky is really beautiful tonight," he gently proclaimed. "I wonder if King ever takes the time to notice?"

"Tat-chan?"

_Hm?_

"I never asked before, because I trusted King-sama to make the right decision… but…" Her heart was aflutter as she leaned her head against his shoulder to snuggle into his comforting warmth. "Do you think you could tell me what happened that night when he and Tomo fought?"

"Oh, you're curious now?"

For the first time since her return that evening, a meek smile curled her lips. "I want to be more like you," she admitted breathlessly. "I want to open my eyes and see what you see." She turned her head, resting her chin on his shoulder as she looked up at him with troubled desperation on her face. "Would you help me do that?"

With a kind smile and a gentle giggle, Tatara's expression warmed with bashful fondness. "I'd love to." He reached by his side and lazily intertwined their fingers as he prepared to lead her into their home. "But first, we have to get you started on your homework before school starts next week, or Kusanagi-san is going to be even angrier."

Her groan was grim and defiant as she concealed her blushing face against his navy jacket. "I didn't do any of it this summer…"

"I know, Lion-chan," he teased spiritedly. "I know…"


	18. Killjoy

**Killjoy**

* * *

Skewed digital tones sounded from the handheld console between Misaki's hands as he laid against the blanket spread out on the centre of the floor and watched the screen illuminate. He had been fidgeting with the system for so long with it clasped in outstretched arms that his muscles began to cramp, causing him to power the unit down just as the echoes of his character's defeat sounded in the apartment.

After drawing his feet towards his chest, they sprang forward, using the momentum to set him upright with his legs flopped lazily in front. Even though he was teeming with energy that he needed to burn, his expression was as uncharacteristically vacant as it had been for the last week or so. It had been a while since he'd managed to screw up badly enough to cause Neirah to raise her voice, and he still hadn't managed to bridge the gap between them. It made Saburōta's birthday awkward. Although, he wholeheartedly believed that she used their conflict as an excuse to devote her attention to her precious _Wolf-kun_.

Something about the memories made his face twist. It was Saburōta's fault that their relationship began to go sideways in the first place. Misaki was perfectly content thinking that Neirah was a violent beast, but then Saburōta went and let her get kidnapped. Without comprehending it, Misaki's shoulders tensed, and he found himself kicking out his socked feet against the floor in a mild tantrum. Watching the way Neirah doted on her cherished friend had Misaki's teeth grinding as he sat there wondering what on earth he was doing wrong, insulted that Saburōta managed to figure it out before him.

"Can you make any more noise down there?"

Misaki pouted and turned his frustration towards where Saruhiko was absently scrolling information on his laptop from above. "I probably could if you wanted me to." His tone was snarky as he bit back at his friend to reapply his coarse demeanour and conceal his rousing vulnerability. "You know, if you weren't so busy doin' nothin', I could use a little help here."

There was a sarcastic snigger in Saruhiko's tone as he lowered his hand from his smile and let it join the other against his keyboard. All the while, his sapphire eyes never shifted from his screen. "You think that all you need is a _little_? That's cute."

With a desperate groan, Misaki spread his arms to either side, tipping onto his back against the blanket bunched beneath him. "I thought you said I made a stupid face when I was thinking about Tsukiyo?"

It was hard for Saruhiko not to sound pleased when he agreed with his troubled companion. "You do."

"Well, I don't want it to get stuck like that," he defended with a mild whinge. "Tell me how to fix it."

"You could start by figuring out if it's broken."

Misaki shot forward again with an impatient growl, folding his legs beneath him. "You know full well it is!" he commanded fervently. "It's like you _want_ me to mess this up. You saw how she was acting the other day. It's like I don't even exist anymore!"

Saruhiko didn't move. However, he did shift his sharp stare towards where his associate was flustering in a heap on their floor. He carefully observed the symptoms of Misaki's tantrum and quietly returned his sights to his computer screen when he spoke. "You jealous that someone else is moving in on your territory? Just remember who was here first."

Startled by the bold accusation, Misaki's wild hazel gaze shot towards the sight of his instigating roommate with an expression teetering between rage and mortification. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he curtly amended. With a dim sigh, Saruhiko closed his eyes and meditated on his thoughts in hopes of finding the patience he kept locked deep within himself for Misaki and Misaki alone. When he did so, he also spared a moment to wonder when it had become an effort to tolerate the man's company. "Does it bother you?"

Misaki startled to hear the question posed so bluntly. "Ehn, well, yeah. Obviously."

Without opening his eyes, Saruhiko reached towards his laptop and gently pushed the lid down on its illuminated display. Once the humming had gone to sleep, he turned his attention entirely to the troubled man begging his assistance. "Do you really want to know what I think?"

Misaki crawled to his feet and approached their sleeping arrangements with a soft scoff, laying his hands against the rungs of the ladder that would close the distance between them. "Duh," he instigated. "That's why I asked."

Given the intrusion on his personal space, Saruhiko knew that's why Misaki asked him for his opinion, but he figured it would be courteous to check before hitting him with the cold, hard truth. "I think she's pissed off."

Fumbling with his grip on the post he reached for at the top of his climb, Misaki quickly adjusted his hold to keep from toppling over with the impact of Saruhiko's honesty. "Wait, y-you do?"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko tossed his head to one side and diverted his gaze, hating how concerned Misaki became when he finally heard someone else say what he'd been repeating for months. "Yeah, I do," he reiterated frankly. "Every time there's trouble, you always go crying to Mikoto."

To the intensity of Saruhiko's tone, Misaki's expression dropped with the insult of his accusing statement. "What the hell else am I supposed to do? He's our king! He'd probably like to know if one of us is in trouble."

"How annoying," Saruhiko almost snarled. "I couldn't imagine being begged for help every time HOMRA's _hunter_ breaks a nail." Saruhiko's tone unenthusiastically deadpanned as he cringed over his thoughts of their king. "To think, having all that power only to be bothered with something so trivial."

"Oi! First of all, I didn't beg him for anything!" Misaki demanded. "Second of all, Tsukiyo could've really been in trouble!"

Saruhiko's voice escalated as he whirled to face his friend. "And have you never noticed that you're the only one who seems to care?" His gaze focused on the look in timorous eyes as they comprehended his truth. "Tsukiyo was Mikoto-san's clansman long before we showed up, and even before that, she was picking fights with rival gangs for the Yakuza. What makes you think she needs anybody's help for anything other than homework?" Saruhiko's attention narrowed intolerantly with his aggravated fluster. "When you think she's in trouble, you make this big scene only to find out that she didn't need your help in the first place, and then all you do is mope about it. She's annoyed. You're _annoying_ her, Misaki."

Misaki's tone cracked softly with apprehension. "That's… but I just wanted to-"

Something dark within Saruhiko caused a slight grin to curl his lips as he delighted in the conflict cultivating between his clanmates, and his words were almost sung musically with a small sense of triumph. "You know what I love about Tsukiyo?" Saruhiko pressed forward eagerly, possibly a little more earnestly than he had initially anticipated. "She doesn't need anyone else. I can sit ten feet away from her and not say a thing, and she's okay with that."

After carefully considering his cohort's words for a moment, Misaki's brow furrowed analytically. "Wait, are you saying that you don't need anyone else, either?"

With a low groan, Saruhiko disconnected their gazes and lowered his voice. "What I'm saying is that Tsukiyo doesn't need you following Mikoto around and tattling on her every time she trips."

"Stop saying that like you didn't have to help keep Tetsuko in line too! It could've been bad if we hadn't shown up! Even Kusanagi-san said so!"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes and swatted Misaki's hand off the ladder, crowding him until he had to drop from the rungs for Saruhiko to take his place. "You asked for my opinion," he reminded him abruptly. "Don't act so pissed off when it's not what you wanted to hear. You can't honestly tell me that this surprises you."

Misaki stepped to the side to allow Saruhiko to climb down and continued to watch his irritable roommate cross the floor into their kitchen. "What I'm pretty sure I asked for was help," he protested callously. "Then, you just fuckin' went off on me like it was your problem, somehow."

From where Saruhiko had buried his head in the refrigerator, he scoffed and sang his impatient retort with obvious disapproval. "_Oh, but it is_. When you have problems playing nice with the other kids, I get to hear all about them. So what if one of them doesn't like you? Why does everyone have to be your friend all of a sudden? Honestly, it was more interesting back when you hated her."

"Stop that! I never said I hated her!" Misaki barked lividly. "And stop makin' it sound like we're not the same age! You're not my babysitter!"

Saruhiko's expression was void, and his tone grew bleak as he straightened with his selection, casually flicking the fridge shut behind him. "It's kind of hard to tell sometimes." He ignored the way Misaki began to tremble with anger as he popped the top off his soda and passed him by on his way back to his electronics. "Face it, Misaki. You can't do anything without Mikoto-san holding your hand. This is no different. He's not going to fix this for you, so if you want to fix things with Tsukiyo, you're going to have to do it yourself."

Misaki's expression flashed signs of hurt as he watched Saruhiko climb up his ladder and reopen his laptop as if their conversation had never happened.

Although, Misaki had to admit that, at this point, every time he tried to run off and make his king proud, Mikoto had to bail him out. If it hadn't been for their king showing up that night at the abandoned garage, he and Neirah might have been in more significant trouble than when they'd begun. Inadvertently, that reminded him of how much he relied on Saruhiko to watch his back, save for the night he'd given chase alone. That night, he owed his life to Neirah's quick thinking, the way Izumo had promised it would be, and that encouraged him to consider her likeness to his best friend. To say that his mind was simple wasn't entirely accurate, even if the conclusions he derived came somewhat misinterpreted.

With a softening expression, Misaki slowly climbed the ladder in silence and peeked over at the screen that Saruhiko was observing so intently. It didn't make much sense to him, but it seemed to have his companion entranced up until he'd interrupted him in a soft voice. "Say, Saruhiko…?" He slipped his gaze over the tousled blankets Saruhiko nested in, his stomach in knots to consider his conclusion. "I don't… annoy you, do I?"

The plucking of keys against the laptop stalled for a moment as Saruhiko considered his words, then, without turning over his shoulder, the clattering resumed. "Now what are you going on about?" There was notable exhaustion in his voice as he sloughed off the accusation. "I tell you you're annoying all the time, don't I? But this isn't about me. It's about you and Tsukiyo."

Misaki bowed his head, focussing on his attempt at comprehension. "Well, yeah, but it's just– You and her are pretty similar, don't you think?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Misaki groaned his defeat and quietly escorted himself to the floor. "Yeah, whatever," he conceded bleakly. "I'm gonna head out for some air. Do you want me to pick anything up while I'm out?"

Tipping his head all the way back to finish his beverage, Saruhiko considered the remnants before straightening and tossing Misaki the empty bottle. "Where'd you get this?"

"Huh, these?" Misaki considered the bottle for a moment before recalling. "Just that store down the road. Why? You like 'em?"

Saruhiko didn't connect their gazes as he continued his diligent toil. "Do you think they'll be open this late?"

Misaki shrugged before approaching the front door and tossing the empty bottle into the recycling. "Dunno. I can try." He laid his fingers on the skateboard propped vertically by their front door and considered Saruhiko's words. Finally, he turned over his shoulder and observed where his companion hadn't bothered to move. "Hey, Saru?"

Staring impatiently towards the ceiling outside of Misaki's comprehension, Saruhiko let out an exhausted sigh. "What is it now?"

Misaki itched his jaw sheepishly with a soft blush in his cheeks over his bashful smile. "Ah, thanks for listening." After slipping his shoes onto his feet, he stepped through the door for just a moment before poking his head back in and offering a quiet word of caution. "You should uh… probably lock the door behind me."

Saruhiko was startled by the first words spoken to him, so much so that he turned his surprised gaze to face the gentle click of the door shutting behind his comrade. He remained twisted for a moment like he was waiting for Misaki to return and take it all back. Then again, Misaki had been genuine from the beginning. He was a fool, but he was still Saruhiko's fool, for the meantime.

After a lonely moment of consideration, Saruhiko's aggravated expression softened despite the impatient sigh to sound in the empty apartment as he picked up his mobile phone and scrolled through the illuminated screen. He took notice of the timestamp on his message as he typed it out, but despite the hour getting ready to tick past eleven o'clock on a weekday, he still finished by hitting send.

"Oh, Misaki," he hummed grimly to himself as he returned to his computer. "The things I do for you."

* * *

Sure enough, Misaki's destination displayed a fluorescent closed sign in the front window as he skated through a ghost district. He knew the streets of Shizume like the back of his hand, so he didn't have to lend much thought to his navigation. Instead, he was able to let his mind blank, or more specifically, wander.

The thought that made its way into his head that time was a set of words Tomaya spoke before turning himself over to the Blue King. He noted that Neirah was crying that day. By the time Misaki had seen her, there wasn't anything even close to tears in her eyes. He'd seen her sad before, angry, happy. He thought he understood her quite well, but he had never seen her cry. He considered that he should probably show concern for trying to envision the way tears might look on her face, but he couldn't. It seemed as foreign to him as tears in the eyes of his best friend.

It wasn't the first time Misaki had compared them and considered the multitude of traits they shared. They were both smart, independent, and a little ruthless at times. But where they differed was what stood out to him. Neirah loved her friends more than anything. When he moved to support her the night that they had their initial fallout with Tomaya, the first thing she asked him was if Saburōta was okay. Saruhiko, on the other hand, had been troublesome for a while. He became irritable around Rikio most often, and even Tatara sometimes. It felt like he was trying to distance himself while Misaki fought for their inclusion, which seemed a little counterproductive. He understood that the man was complicated, but surely, he didn't want to be left all alone.

In the end, that was just Saruhiko. It wasn't new. That was the part that he accepted. What continued to perplex him was that Saruhiko seemed to speak relatively highly of Neirah, like he understood her, or carried a potential interest. It made Misaki wonder how someone brazen enough to throw Saruhiko's scorn right back at him made the list of people worth considering his friend.

All of a sudden, with his eyes bursting wide open to realize where his deliberation had led him, a wheel on his board caught a nick in the pavement and sent him toppling face-first into the street. He quickly climbed to his feet, checking around him to see if anyone had noticed before gathering the article and scampering out of sight.

Misaki's face was hot with the thoughts plaguing his mind as he rushed his return home, eager to continue their conversation. His heart knocked the walls of his chest in a hastened beat as his conspiracies began to take shape behind his eyes. _'That can't be it,'_ he mused nervously. As he approached their apartment, the colour in his face deepened to the consideration of his comrade's potential answer to the question on his mind. _'Not Saru. Not with…'_

Misaki hurried towards the entrance of his home and started to dig for keys that he'd forgotten to take with him. "Shit," he muttered frustratedly. "Man, I hope Fushimi's still as lazy as ever."

He heaved a relieved sigh when he reached for the doorknob and found out that it was still unlocked. Giving it an eager twist, he parted his lips for his attempted interrogation when he entered to déjà vu.

It looked like Saruhiko hadn't moved much since Misaki had left, but joining him on his monotonous journey was the delicate woman causing the skittish vanguard so much heartache. Saruhiko was still typing on his keyboard with one hand while the other absently fondled Neirah's dainty socked foot in his lap. From where her head rested opposing his touch, she was holding a textbook, her face filled with signs of mixed emotion as she relieved in her strains but wracked her brain to consider the material in front of her nose.

Standing vacantly in the doorway, one of Misaki's eyes began to twitch with the stampeding of his guilty train of thought. "N-not Saru… Not with Tsu-ki-yo-" He quickly shook his head with a fierce intensity. "Damn it, Fushimi! I was gone for five minutes!"

"It was more like ten," Saruhiko retorted bluntly. "Not that I was counting the minutes of appreciated silence or anything."

"It's still impossible for Tsukiyo to get here in that amount of time!"

"I was in the neighbourhood."

When neither of them adjusted their gazes towards Misaki's outburst like it came misdirected, he groaned his exhaustion and padded tensely through the room. He lowered his voice but kept a suspicious spark in his observational scowl. "What the heck are you doin' anyway…?"

Neirah moaned lightly and wriggled her toes but didn't take her eyes off her textbook as she spoke. "It was busy at the bar, so Onii-san kicked me out."

Misaki tilted his embarrassed pout away from the sound of her voice, still bitter that she had completely ignored him during Saburōta's birthday and then dared to act as if nothing had happened. "I was talkin' to Fushimi."

Neirah didn't seem troubled by his dig, and Saruhiko was equally as unaffected as he responded. "She wouldn't stop bitching about how bad her feet hurt. It was annoying."

Misaki jolted to life alertly, a note of concern in his tone as he threw his finger out towards the heeled boots she left by their door. "If she'd stop wearing those stupid shoes!"

"I can see why you live with him now," she purred fondly. At first, Misaki didn't know which one of them she was addressing due to the vague nature of her remark, but, so far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to make her moan quite like she had. "And here I thought Tat-chan gave the best foot rubs. He's been shamed this night."

Misaki buried his face in his hands, trying to keep his thoughts from spilling out and making things any more awkward than they already were. "That's not why I live with him, okay!? I don't wear stupid shoes like you!" He stormed over to the base of Saruhiko's post and glared up at the casual pair acting as if anything about what they'd been up to was _normal_. "What are you doing here, Tsukiyo? It's late. Does Kusanagi-san know you're here?"

"Of course," she hummed casually. "I find history dry, so I thought it would be nice to have some company. Seeing as he lost interest in talking to me about it, I thought I'd come here."

It had become evident to Misaki that the reason she'd been in the area was to drop in on them either way, which didn't help him sort through their confusing situation in the slightest. With a disbelieving cock of one brow, Misaki's manner dampened with suspicion. "But you two never talk anyway."

With a soft snicker, Neirah held up two fingers for a moment until she could keep her place in the textbook with her thumb. Then, she turned to face Misaki with a surprisingly fond smile. "We made eye contact twice. We're taking our relationship to the next level."

Shuddering to the impact of her gaze locking with his, Misaki quickly rolled his eyes to distort their connection, turning entirely to hide the deepening of the pigment in his cheeks. "J-jeez, get a room, you two." Through an awkwardly devilish grin, he said the words to mock the misinterpretation of their union jokingly when Saruhiko caused him to flinch with his rebuttal.

"Why would we do that when we had the whole place to ourselves?"

Misaki threw his balled fists down by his sides before diving beneath the top bunk of their beds to hide his flustered face. "Fine! Just do whatever! It's not like things could get any weirder around here!"

Neirah seemed indifferent to the storm of emotion rocking her seat, so with a curious hum, she reached out to steal Saruhiko's glasses from between his dark bangs and his concentration. "Is that so?"

Saruhiko cringed before searching for the source of her contact. "What the-?"

Neirah settled the thick-rimmed glasses on her face and coiled it up with a couple of long blinks. "How on earth can you see anything with these on?"

Saruhiko growled and reached over her shins in an attempt to snag his spectacles. "Give those back, you little pest," he rumbled petulantly. Then, with a dry hiss, he chose to instigate the situation. "Look, you're making your boyfriend jealous."

With a deep bark of disapproval, Misaki straightened one of his legs and kicked it into the bottom of their roost. He lifted his forearm from the bridge of his nose and glared daggers through the sheet metal. "Oi! Not funny, Monkey!"

Misaki flinched when Neirah immediately flopped over the edge of the platform with Saruhiko's glasses still on her face, her adorably geeky look causing his cheeks to flood after he'd just settled the burn.

"Yata, is something the matter? You seem tense."

Misaki's lips tightened along with his chest, and he had to fight not to clasp the vulnerable ache. "Y-yeah, there is," he prompted edgily. "You guys are being weird."

Neirah responded with another indifferent tilt of her adorable pout, and it began to aggravate Misaki to notice how casual she was over the strain in their relationship. She was acting as if nothing had ever happened between them, and she hadn't managed to go days on end without addressing him once. "Do you want me to tell him to stop?"

"_Him_?" Misaki found himself immediately flinching to her aid at the sight of hands grabbing her shoulders, causing a startled yip to pass by pouty lips as she got dragged into Saruhiko's territory. The realization immediately made Misaki anxious while he tossed a silent tantrum outside of their comprehension. Things always seemed to be stranger than usual when Neirah was visiting.

Saruhiko let a dim growl rattle in his chest as he snatched his glasses away from the woman with surging aggravation. "You think you can control me like you do the others? Think again, princess."

Neirah met his cautionary challenge head-on, quipping back with the full force of her spite for losing the spoils of her theft. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Masochist…"

From where he'd returned to whatever he'd been so fascinated by on his computer screen, Saruhiko volleyed her sarcasm right back. "I'm a sadist, not a masochist."

A dry snort had Neirah diverting her attention. "Well then, I can see this relationship is going nowhere, so why don't we quit while we're ahead?"

"I could do this all night."

A shrill yelp had Saruhiko raising his chin from the support of his palm as Misaki reached up over the ladder and dragged Neirah from out of Saruhiko's midst.

"Okay, that's enough!" Misaki snapped intolerantly. He shoved his hands against her shoulders, her immobile socked-feet gliding effortlessly across the floor before he pushed her out the front door. He counted that as his cleaning for the evening. "Tsukiyo, go home!"

As soon as Neirah was on the other side of the partition, Misaki turned his burning gaze on Saruhiko, who seemed to have a questioning look on his analytical expression.

"What was that all about?" Saruhiko muttered dryly.

"That's it!" Misaki barked. "We need to talk right now!"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko rolled his eyes at his riled friend's theatrics. "What? It's not as if you _like_ her or anything."

"Don't say _like_ like that!" Misaki grated through clenched teeth. "I don't gotta like her for you to be a half-decent human being once in a while!"

Neirah's elevated croon interrupted their banter for a split moment. "Uhm, my boots?"

Misaki startled alertly and quickly rushed towards the door. "Shit! Right." He took up the boots Neirah suggested requiring, taking a split second to consider how tiny they were before tossing them into her arms. Later, he admitted that he probably should have just burnt them and sent her home with the ashes, for her sake. But instead, he just slammed the slab to dismiss her presence.

Upon joining his friend on the ground level of their apartment, Saruhiko rolled his eyes as Misaki stepped away, only to rush back and lock the door he'd just tossed their friend out. "Do you think she's like a vampire or something?" he prompted. "She doesn't need an invitation. She's more like a cat. If she wants in here, you can't stop her."

With a sinister chuckle, Misaki rattled the knob to make sure it was secured. When he was certain she wouldn't be sneaking through it, he turned to face his roommate. "Look, I wanna know why-" A shrill cry interrupted Misaki's accusing tone when he turned to see Neirah back in the room and climbing her way up the ladder leading to her history textbook. "W-wait- What the hell!?"

"Told you," Saruhiko stated flatly.

After retrieving her schoolbook, Neirah smiled kindly at the staggered Misaki before approaching. First, she handed him her manual and spun him around. Then, while he was still trying to comprehend her defiance of natural scientific laws, she shoved him towards their front door, pausing only momentarily to unlock it before pushing him onto the other side of it. "Yata, could you give us a moment?" she sang sweetly. "I need to talk to Fushimi-san alone."

Misaki watched as her welcoming smile disappeared behind the slab, and when he heard the tumbler turn over, he snapped free of his bemusement. He tossed the book onto the floor and started to hammer his fists against the locked entryway. "Oi!? How the hell did she turn this around on me!?" he thundered. "Not funny, you two! Fushimi, let me back in!"

Neirah stared into the steel slab ahead of her for a long moment, her expression bleeding of all tender humour. "I've made a lot of enemies over the past few years of my life," she began in a dull whisper. "But none of them have loathed me quite like you do, Fushimi Saruhiko."

When she turned over her shoulder, Saruhiko had stiffened, his entire body rigid like he was preparing to do battle, not converse with the delicate creature in front of him. She had instantly taken notice of his resistance, and the sight had a fond smile curling her lips. "It's too bad. I never had a bad word on my tongue for you."

Saruhiko staggered a step backwards to brace his stance as she approached, and realizing this, she immediately halted. "I'm right, aren't I?"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko stood off against the beauty with an irritated grimace on his face. "Half-right, as usual." After snapping his eyes in line with hers, he lowered his voice to a bitter hiss. "Followed by a personal need to be the centre of attention. What I loathe isn't nearly as fixed, so don't flatter yourself."

When she parted her lips with a disappointed sigh, her tone reluctantly let slide her feelings of disenchantment. "I won't let that work." When her tone hardened with her immediate disapproval, she cut her gaze beneath thick lashes to observe the way Saruhiko challenged her instinct. "And frankly, I'm surprised someone as clever as yourself thought you could get away with it. I don't know which of us should feel foolish right now."

He turned his head away with an intolerant snort. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Neirah sighed and padded towards him, making sure she put enough distance between herself and their rattled companion to keep him from overhearing their conversation. "I don't care what you think of me or my friends," she admitted quietly. "Your intolerance isn't going to change the way we interact in the slightest."

When she connected her gaze with his from only a few feet away, he could see the lick of passionate flames dancing behind the blue. He saw a warning and sorrow. It was quite apparent that she had caught on to his hidden intensions, which in itself had impressed him, but her reaction had been something entirely unexpected. He expected meeting irrational violence, similar to what she'd displayed on occasion to anyone else to step on her toes. But what he saw that night was so much more.

He loved her eyes. He felt like they could have conversations for days without saying a word because it was all right there. Blending shades of violet into cerulean pools of avid emotion, he watched her regret begin to soften the impact of her blow. With Misaki's words fading into his comprehension, he considered the woman with great scrutiny.

It was true, he hated her, if not just because of the way she'd prodded her way into his perfect little world. Every night he had to hear her name at least once on Misaki's lips, and it boiled his blood. _She wasn't special_, said the man who does nothing but gripe about how depressed he is that he can't be her friend. It was _Neirah this_ and _Neirah that _day-in and day-out. She'd infected Saruhiko's life like a beautiful little parasite, and no matter how badly he wanted to cut her out, he couldn't, because he knew what her friendship meant to the only person that he could tolerate to have near.

"Don't make him choose."

On a whisper softer than he'd ever heard her speak, she uttered the words that would spark a war. Half-right as usual, there were unquestionably things Saruhiko hated about the woman, like her audacity, her constant need for vindication, her irrationalities, and a generous helping of her quirks. Then, some things about her caused him to hesitate with respect to the durable, intelligent person she could be. Unfortunately, he didn't know if he could appreciate that person enough to let them into his life. Maybe he didn't mind having her around on occasion. Still, her company crowded the peaceful barrier he'd erected around his comfortable existence until he was the one who felt like he needed to choose. As such, he couldn't allow her to become a permanent fixture.

"You're expecting me to say something sincere now, aren't you?" Saruhiko rumbled brusquely. "Something in my defence now that you've caught me?"

"It's not required," she sassed. "But I would hear you out if that's what you needed to clear your conscience."

_Tsk_.

"Is that so?" She couldn't help but smile. "I've always liked you, Fushimi-san. You remind me of myself-"

"Don't insult me."

She closed her eyes, letting her head bob with a light chuckle. "-before I joined HOMRA," she continued. "I'll spare you the details because I know you don't care, but I just wanted you to know that my opinion of you isn't going to change because of this."

And there were times when he downright adored her.

"So that's it?" he instigated bleakly. "You're just flexing your claws to retract them without drawing blood?"

The look she gave him was as savage as Misaki had always dreamed she could be when her lustrous gaze met his from beneath her brow. Rolling her tongue slowly over one corner of her lower lip, she caught the soft pink flesh beneath her pearly canine before letting her lips curl into an erotic smile. "Is that what you were hoping for? Because I'd hate to disappoint."

He didn't realize how dry his throat had become until he attempted to choke down the lump tightening his chest. "I already told you, I'm a sadist."

It struck her funny that the running joke branding him as such began to take the form of truth. "We never had this conversation," she whispered affectionately. "So next time you take an interest in me, I expect it to be genuine."

"I wouldn't hold your breath." He peeked beneath his bangs to connect their gazes before finally turning his attention to where the front of his home had grown suspiciously quiet. "Is it just me, or did it get quiet out there?"

Neirah parted her lips to speak on his inspiration when she began to hear pattering against the ceiling, causing steel sheets to moan. With her lips still gawped, she rolled her attention towards the creaking rafters. "He's in the ceiling…"

"Oi! Saruhiko! I think I found where she keeps gettin' in!"

Saruhiko's expression dimmed as he tipped his disapproving leer towards the intrusive brunette standing in front of him. "This is all your fault."

"Just be thankful he's small," she cautioned skeptically. "Otherwise-"

The silence in the room disrupted rudely to the sound of ringing sheet metal buckling under Misaki's weight, and soon, he was toppling from above. Like he expected something of the sort to happen, Saruhiko was ready, and when he opened his arms in front of him without taking his eyes of Neirah's, Misaki was dropping into their support.

"Something like that might happen," Neirah concluded brightly. "Not exactly assassin material, are you, Yata-san?"

"Shit! Great catch, Saru! That was awesome!" Misaki beamed. He tipped his head back and looked up into the ceiling with an eager song in his tone. "You know, if we tried, we could probably make that into a secret entrance!"

With a vacant expression lingering on the fiery glint of Neirah's communicative eyes, Saruhiko dropped Misaki from his arms to collapse the rest of his promised distance with a delicate yip. "I'm going to bed." Ignoring Misaki's bitter curses, he stepped over the rubble and resisted the need to smile.

A secret entrance to their secret base where they plotted to take over the entire world.

It sounded nice, but someone else knew about it too, someone that he didn't want in their world. "But seeing as you have so much energy, maybe you should walk Tsukiyo home, so she doesn't end up getting kidnapped again. That is unless you want her to stay here all night."

Misaki climbed to his feet, rubbing his aching tailbone and wincing with the pain while he watched Saruhiko climb into his den like a bear preparing to hibernate. "Wait, weren't you just saying something about Tsukiyo not needing-"

"Goodnight, Yata."

Misaki winced to the impact of Saruhiko's hard tone, cautioning him not to repeat the words on his lips. "Eh, well… if you say so," he muttered apprehensively. "Night, I guess."

When he realized that Neirah was still nearby and carefully examining him, he immediately straightened. "Oi! What's the big idea locking me out like that!? You made me almost kill myself with that deathtrap of your-"

"Yata? Fushimi-san is right," she interrupted softly. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind?"

It was hard to tell what made his cheeks flood with bashful heat at that moment, but he was helpless to conceal it from her sheepish smile. "A-are you s-sure?" He quickly turned away and scratched his nape hesitantly. "I mean, y-you don't… you don't think it'd be annoying, do you?"

With a tender whisper, her sunny smile brightened her expression with welcoming warmth as she gently shook her head. "Not at all."

* * *

"Tat-chan tells me that there may have been some sort of misunderstanding between us." Neirah turned to face the sight of her downtrodden companion hiking at her side with his skateboard tucked beneath his arm for the return trip. His head hung, and his brow creased with fretful disdain as he fought to keep his composure in front of her curiosity. "Is that true?"

Misaki shifted his peripherals her way before his eyes were sliding across the pavement instead. "I was the one that told Mikoto-san you took off with Tetsuko the other day," he admitted miserably. "And before that, I got in the way when you were trying to talk." His strides became mechanical as he shuffled alongside her with fading ambition. "I mean, I'd be pretty pissed too."

Closing her eyes over her soft grin, she sighed her disappointment. "I'm not angry with you," she reassured bluntly. "I never was."

Misaki seemed to startle to life, with his gaze brightening slightly to consider how easy it was to get her to dismiss his concerns like they were nothing. "R-really? You aren't mad?"

She tipped her slightly disheartened eyes towards his shock. "That would be pretty rude," she teased. "You're someone who cares about your friends, so to hate you for something that makes you you would be incredibly unfair." She tilted from his unbelievably grateful expression to keep from startling him away. Instead, she emitted a blissful sigh and tipped her head back to observe the black sky above them. "To be honest, I was a little frustrated, at first, but if you hadn't gotten involved the first time, I might have had to fight one of my dearest friends." Something about the thought of Tomaya in the back of her mind had her once-fond smile fading slightly. "And the second time, when you brought it to King-sama's attention, it was his decision not to get involved. That wasn't your fault."

A look of concern darkened Misaki's features. "Hey… you're not mad at Mikoto-san, are you? For not helping Tetsuko?"

After a quiet moment had passed between them, Neirah gently shook her head and uttered a meek whisper. "No. Our king put his reign on the line for me once already. It was selfish of me to think that I could continue to rely on his assurance to solve my problems for me."

Misaki seemed startled by her admittance after he heard Saruhiko speak something similar about him not long before. "W-what do you mean by that?"

She quickly shook her head. "It's nothing," she encouraged. "What I'm trying to say is that the situation with Tetsuko was unstable, at best. There's nothing wrong with how everything played out, and once SCEPTRE4 releases him from their custody, I'm going to be there for him the way I should have been from the start." Her heart began to race with anticipation as hope flushed her cheeks with a delicate rouge. "Until then, I'll just have to be patient."

Misaki watched her linger quietly on her thoughts for a bit before diverting his attention to the pressure of his guilty feelings. "Uhm, Tsukiyo… Can I- can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she hummed invitingly.

He almost wished she had rejected him. Something about talking so casually with her still didn't seem right. It always felt estranged, like he had to watch what he said to keep from turning the situation sour. "You and Fushimi… are you two, like, alright?"

_Hm?_ Neirah cocked her head to one side with an innocent coo. "So far as I know. What has you asking this time?"

"I just… was thinking, I guess," he admitted ambiguously. "Because, if you and Saruhiko wanted to, you know, be alone together, I could leave." It was humiliating to feel his face burn like his aura had snuck out of his control, but he couldn't help the churning of his insides to consider the intrusion. His voice became small as he whispered out his meek addition. "I don't want to be annoying."

Misaki startled to the sound of Neirah's light giggle, so he turned to face her, but when her laughter erupted into full-bodied hysterics, he recoiled. "E-eh? Was it something I said?"

"Oh Yata, the very _last_ thing you should worry yourself about is Fushimi-san and I," she sang delightedly. Realizing that she was likely insulting his suggestion despite him being encouraged to believe such a farce, she reined in her need to discourage the thought. "Honestly, though," she murmured kindly. "Fushimi-san and I are just friends." And estranged friends, at that.

Not a lot of comfort seemed to replace Misaki's uncertainty as he diverted his gaze. "You consider Saruhiko your friend?"

Neirah seemed confused by his concerned interrogation, and maybe she was, in part, a bit suspicious that Misaki might have overheard a part of their conversation earlier. "You sound surprised."

"No," Misaki interjected softly. "I just hope he sees it, is all." His presence became aloof, and his voice distant as he considered her sentiment. "I mean, he's a hundred times smarter than I am, so I'm sure he does, but I guess I'm just worried about him. He doesn't seem to consider many people in HOMRA as comrades. I just don't want him to feel left out, y' know?"

When Misaki turned his sad eyes on her, her heart sank. She had shared a similar suspicion, especially overhearing the whispers of her senior clanmates. Being close to everyone, she knew everything, and she had grown discouraged to learn that Saruhiko wasn't overly liked. Though, she wasn't sure what she expected with the way he acted. It was quite clear that the idea of home and family skewed in Saruhiko's mind, for some reason, and even adopting HOMRA as a stand-in hadn't seemed to help him like it did some of her fellow allies.

But it wasn't fair. The look on the face of the man beside her was twisting her heart with guilt until it ached to confess dark truths to miserable eyes. She couldn't comprehend how two completely different people had become so close, but she was willing to accept that she didn't realize what they had gone through before she ever met them. It was similar to how Misaki hadn't understood her. He mocked the suggestion that she had ever cried, and that upset her. Because of his misinterpretation, she felt like he was struggling to see her as an equal. She feared that she might have been one of the reasons that their relationship had become so damaged, which is why she enjoyed the quiet moments they shared on even ground.

"Fushimi-san is a difficult man," Neirah started honestly. "But I would never consider him anything less."

She saw the golden light return to Misaki's eyes as his smile reformed crookedly on his face, and she could feel the weight lift from his chest to the comfort of her reassuring words. It was quite apparent that Misaki looked up to Saruhiko. Maybe it was his intelligence, or his ability to converse evenly with women. Whether it be trivial or elaborate, the bond they shared was strong, and she had no intention of interfering in the way that Saruhiko feared.

Honestly, she felt like she and Misaki wanted the same thing for their distant cohort. Both of them cherished the sense of belonging that they'd found with HOMRA, and believing that feeling could be the same for everyone, they wanted to share it. Neirah seemed to be a little more sensitive to the fact that Saruhiko didn't seem interested in the slightest, but she still hoped.

Even as Saruhiko laid alone in bed, clenching his teeth around his impatient sneer beneath the covers he hoisted over his head, Neirah hoped. Despite Saruhiko's need to reject the promise that one day they could all laugh together, Misaki hoped. Nothing was exciting about comradery or peace. It worried him that the spark of defiance he clung to was fading as Misaki became absorbed into a happy home without him. He felt like the three-legged stray in the cardboard box that nobody wanted, but Misaki was supposed to be down an eye. They were supposed to be _two_ rejected pups. He was supposed to see what Misaki couldn't, and Misaki was to hunt while he hobbled. It wasn't supposed to be easy. With no challenges to overcome, life became mundane, and there was no way to grow stronger.

But the truth was that, no matter how brightly the flames burned in his hands, it couldn't set his small world on fire.


	19. Keen

**Keen**

* * *

_It's funny how quickly time passes when your life is filled with smiles. Before I knew it, we were welcoming a new year together with hope in our hearts. Nothing really changed, or so I wanted to say. But it was pretty obvious that I did._

_That was intentional, though. Because I wanted to be more like you. _

_You were my greatest inspiration. I wanted to smile more and laugh from the inside out. I wanted to cherish every day to its absolute fullest with every friend we keep in our circle together. That's why after Tomo's release from SCEPTRE4's custody, I started seeing him again, no matter how bitter it made Yata, at the time._

_I can't see a reason to make peace with our rivals yet, though. That becomes clearer every time Awashima comes by to visit Onii-san. Seri-chan, that's what he calls her. It must be his way of retaliating against me for bringing Okazaki-san around. But it won't be long now, and I'll be in my final year of high school. I won't need his help with my homework anymore._

_Soon, it will be time for me to decide what I want out of this future that I made my own, and who I want to share it with._

_**January 15th, 2010 8:34 pm**_

Shouts of enraged curses were ear-splitting as Neirah's heels slammed against the dusty warehouse floorboards as quickly as they could carry her. The entire room smelled like sulphur, and any moment, the operation at her reverse was about to experience a 'freak accident' that saw the illegal contents of the loft go up in flames. Desperate to prevent it, but livid enough to continue shooting at the red clansmen responsible, the enemy fire continued to pelt holes into the boards she thundered across.

Leaping forward with a gentle moan of exertion, Neirah tumbled across the littered floor before springing to her feet. Then, she launched the dart by her lumbar into the damaged panes of glass at the end of their trek. Ammunition was beginning to pop off more erratically when she jolted her attention over her shoulder, and she knew the fuse was growing short. Any moment, the entire building was going to begin to crumble beneath the destruction of hazardous property.

With an urgent squeak, she snatched the front of Saburōta's shirt, dragging him forward and thrusting him out of the window she'd just opened despite his defiant whimper. Once he was safely on the other side, she launched a couple of darts into the commotion, letting her aura surge from their strike to keep their enemies at bay while they waited for the fireworks.

The moment the building began to quake with the first round of gunpowder igniting, Neirah was the one who felt a reassuring palm fisting between the shoulders of her leather jacket, jerking her out the window next to her unsettled partner. She winced to the thundering crash of rafters going up in smoke, her clenched fists conscious to the way Saburōta's heartbeat raced beneath them. Once he had her locked in his arms, he slammed his back up against the side of the building beside the window to keep them safe from the spray of glass launching from their escape route.

Neirah was just about to step away on the narrow shelf that circled the upper level of the building when she felt the ground tremor a second time. Saburōta palmed the back of his companion's head to keep her from rushing into danger, as she was known to do. When the crackling of bullets combusting subsided, he carefully peeked around the corner of the window. "That happened fast," he muttered worrisomely. "So much for _doing it quietly_. Shit…" He tightened his grip defensively on the small frame he kept clutched against his front. "Kusanagi-san's gonna be pissed."

Shuffling out from within his embrace, Neirah carefully stepped around him to flatten her shoulders against the same outer wall. "It's fine, everything's fine," she rushed out enthusiastically. "I didn't really expect things to go as planned, anyway." She gawped quietly at the blackened harbour that rested still beneath the blanket of the night sky as the building behind them began to buckle. "I guess that makes this our improvised escape route then." She turned her bright, starry gaze to face where his eyes remained concealed beneath sunglasses that he had no business wearing after dark. Despite his unenthusiastic drop of expression, she unfurled her fingers between them and offered her invitation. "After you, Bandō, baby."

Saburōta immediately shuddered to attention. "Oi! Whatever happened to ladies first, huh?!"

"I really don't have the time to mock you right now, so please don't tempt me," she sassed. "Besides, let's face it, you make a much prettier damsel."

"No way in hell am I'm jumpin' into that!" he confidently thundered, pointing towards the water's onyx surface. "We don't have a clue how deep it is, and it's like fifty feet below us!"

The pair recoiled to the rocking of the building as the second stash of goods began to smoke. "You will if you want to live," Neirah swiftly assured. "Look at it this way. There's a forty/sixty chance it's deep enough that you won't break all your bones on impact."

Saburōta considered her statement for a moment before catching the dangerous look in her eyes and panicking on the tiny ledge where they stood. "Wait- which one's the sixty!?"

After shoving her companion off the edge of the pier, Neirah watched dully with an aloof expression as he struck the water. Then, to the sight of the window behind her filling with the rush of swelling flames, she delicately popped off and chased after him into the void with an elegantly executed backward dive.

When she struck the water, it was frigid enough to cause her entire body to sting, but when it illuminated with the sight of debris tearing through the dark sky, she was relieved that they hadn't picked the opposite end of the building to scamper. Exhaling a burst of bubbles beneath the water towards the settling of flames, she began to paddle to the surface before she lost her way in the returning murk.

Saburōta surfaced with a gasping breath, flailing wildly in Minato's harbour while scouring the shady liquid surface for the hat that he'd lost during his fall. With a bitter growl, he slapped his hand down on the wading article just as the surface darkened to the subsiding catastrophe. He clenched it tightly as he began to approach the docks not far away. "C-crazy chick's tryin' to k-k-kill me," he muttered through chattering teeth. Despite his obvious annoyance, he worrisomely circled a couple of times in search of his heartless partner. He hated losing track of her because every time it happened, he was to blame for some terrible occurrence. "Tsukiyo?! Where are you?!"

The power of Neirah's rapid ascent had her popping up out of the water not far from where Saburōta was treading, and she quickly shook her head to clear her sopping hair from her face. "Ho, that's chilly," she sang with an aggravated choke. "Nope. Nope, this was _not_ one of my finer solutions. Cold… Cold…" She could hear sirens beginning to ring through the night as the building smouldered, and their enemies began to evacuate in retreat. Through all the commotion, she figured it wouldn't hurt to call out to her friend. "Wolf-kun? Where are you?" Despite her confidence in their landing, she still said a silent prayer that he hadn't broken anything on the way down. "Bandō?"

"Nē-san, over here!"

Her gentle gaze shot towards the sound of her comrade's voice, and she felt the immediate warmth of relief spread through to the tips of her frozen toes. "A-ah, I guess we were lucky, h-huh?"

Reaching out to take her hand in his, Saburōta stifled the urgent need to slam his palm against her head and hold her underwater. "Are you tellin' me the sixty was the chances of us _drowning_?!"

Neirah couldn't help laughing as they waded towards the sight of the docks nearby. "Well, to be honest, I didn't even know if you could swim."

"Onē-san is the worst…" he groaned.

"Neirah!" Rikio thundered from nearby. "I was lookin' all over! What are you two doin' in the water?!" Despite Saburōta reaching up for Rikio's assistance, he met with the same chivalrous spirit he was trying to preach before being tossed into the waterway.

"Change of plans," Neirah murmured upon gratefully accepting Rikio's warm palm. "We zigged when we should have zagged."

There was a bothered look on Rikio's face as he helped her to her feet, quickly releasing her to unzip his dark jacket with a sense of urgency. "Kusanagi-san's gonna be mad if you wind up sick," he groaned. "Why is it that every time Bandō's around, you always end up in some sort of danger?"

"Oi! How come it can't be the other way around?!" Saburōta raged. "Does everyone just forget that when Onē-san gets crazy, I get beaten, drugged and nearly drowned!?"

"_Nearly_," Neirah cooed fondly. "I told you you were a prettier damsel."

"Hey, Kamamoto? Do me a favour and toss her back in here for a sec, would ya?"

Once Neirah was on her feet, she reached out with a gently enthusiastic hum and picked the throwing dart out of the dock that she used to break the window above. With a delicate chuckle, she returned her knife to her waistline and approached the ledge. She reached for the scrambling Saburōta's hands and helped him out of the canal behind her. "Maybe Wolf-kun is cursed too," she teased.

"Thank you!" Saburōta hissed his words out frigidly before shooting Rikio a bitter sneer. "Glad _someone_ cares." His face knotted into a resentful grimace as he lowered his tone and grumbled his detached retort. "Even if they're the reason I'm soaked, to begin with..." he muttered.

Ignoring Saburōta's jabbering, Neirah sighed and straightened to address Rikio's concern. "When are you boys going to stop worrying about me, anyway?"

Rikio's gaze anxiously thinned as he held out his dry coat for her to wrap herself up. "When you stop bein'-"

"What? A girl?" she challenged wryly.

He snorted and lunged forward to capture her, clamping his arms around her to lock the coat in place over her shoulders. "I was gonna say reckless."

Neirah drew a deep, settling breath as she closed her eyes and buried her face in the comfortably oversized bomber-style jacket. Sometimes she wondered if she didn't spend more time in it than he did, but it didn't bother her. It didn't seem to bother him either. He always seemed to be near to her when she needed someone to scare the cold away. "The deed is done," she sang sweetly. "All that's left is to flee the scene."

Noticing Saburōta removing his leather to try and wring the excess water out of it, Neirah giggled and fanned her arms out to either side. "Wolf-kun! There's probably enough room in here for the both of us, you know!" When she attracted Saburōta's attention, the calm spill of his crimson aura around his frosted frame vanished.

"Hah… what're ya sayin', Nē-chan…" Rikio muffled despairingly.

There was a hint of betrayal on Saburōta's face as he turned to face her incredulously. "Nah, that's okay. I'm good with freezing my ass off so long as our precious queen is nice and toasty."

"So _salty_," she sang before embracing him regardless. "What kind of queen ends up looking like a drowned rat in order to blast some shady criminal's hideout?"

Despite his sheepish blushing to be clung to so cheekily, he couldn't help but snicker devilishly in retort. "Uh, the _best_ kind."

"You flatter me," she purred.

But when the pressure of her sincerity became too much, a blushing Saburōta raised his voice despite her proximity. "Just remember this the next time you almost kill me!"

"You say that like you expect there to be a next time."

"It's every freakin' time with you!"

Overhearing the sound of wailing sirens starting to close in around them, Rikio turned to check their surroundings before encouraging their retreat. "Ah, alright. Cut it out, you two. You can screw around once we get out of here and get you dried off."

Shifting before Saburōta, Neirah tilted her cute pout towards her ally while continuing to support the flaps of his jacket around herself and her company. "But we haven't visited the Shizume base yet?"

When he turned his incredulous russet gaze to face her, Rikio's expression dropped to express his doubt. "What…?"

She poked one of her hands out from beneath her blanketing comfort to point at the building in shambles. "These people were dealing with another group in Shizume, which is why we got involved in the first place."

Rikio threw his hands up into his hair with an impatient bark. "_That's_ what you're worried about?!"

"I told you she's crazy. That's why we came all the way out here." Saburōta relentlessly instigated the situation from where he remained trapped behind her back. Noticing that Neirah's top had crept up her icy midriff, he clasped the sides of the spandex material and attempted to tug it back over her abnormally light skin. "But can that surprise you when she dresses like this in the middle of the winter?"

"Wolf-kun, stop," she brayed with delight. "That tickles!"

"Hold still," Saburōta nearly snarled. "It's bad enough that your jacket doesn't even cover you here."

With a dim growl, Rikio's expression flattened. "Bandō, grab her legs. We'll carry her back to HOMRA if we gotta."

_E-eh?!_ Flopping her wrist lifelessly to his brazen statement, Neirah was staggered by their team threat. "But the mission…"

Catching Neirah's attention over her shoulder, Saburōta made his best attempt at reasoning with the shivering lioness. "Kamamoto's right," he calmly defended. "We can kick ass some other time. Like when it's about ten degrees warmer outside, or you decide to layer up. Whichever comes first." Realizing that it was likely to be summer before she decided to put on an extra layer, he smiled at her hopefully. "Let's just call it a night. S' too damn cold for this shit."

Neirah pouted and turned to face Rikio with an aggravated flush in her cheeks. "_Mission unaccomplished_ just doesn't have a nice ring to it."

Rikio chuckled lowly before turning and offering his back. He invited Neirah to get off her feet with a knowing smile and his thumb jarring towards his shoulders. "I care less about weapons deals and more about Kusanagi-san comin' down on my ass for letting you get sick. Besides, you hate the cold, right?"

A wavy smile curled her lips as she left Rikio's coat draped over Saburōta's shoulders so she could leap onto his back, causing the pair to join in delighted laughter. "You know me too well," she hummed affectionately.

Tilting his fond smile over his shoulder to meet her enthusiasm, Rikio instigated her playful spirit. "Well, it took a couple'a years, but I think I got you pretty much figured out now."

"That's alright. I got the coats," Saburōta droned bleakly. "Man, you guys are assholes…"

"Minutiae, Bandō, baby," Neirah cheered gleefully. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

"I've been countin' promises for the past year and a half," he retaliated grimly. "Whatever you're workin' on must be damn good."

* * *

Humming the tune to the song he was working hard to memorize, Tatara quietly let himself into his apartment. He still didn't have all the lyrics worked out, but it was becoming more natural for him to play, which encouraged him to find the words to say what he thought was important. Closing his eyes, he spread his arms out to either side with a languid stretch, inhaling deeply and enjoying the time of peace seeming to befall their clan since SCEPTRE4's resurrection. "It's such a nice night out. Maybe I should ask Nei-chan if she wants to go for a walk when she gets home. It's been a while since we just-"

When Tatara's eyes opened, he stilled. He repeatedly blinked without a word to try and figure out why Rikio was standing in their kitchen, looking like a criminal as he waited by the open fridge like Tatara might not see him if he didn't move. Even though he was shocked and slightly disturbed, Tatara's smile didn't fade as he purred his curiosity. "Kamamoto-kun? What are you doing in our kitchen?"

"Rikio, hurry up! You're going to miss it!"

With a guilty smile acknowledging Neirah's eager cheer, Rikio gathered the drinks he was requested to obtain before offering Tatara a swift bow and scampering into the main room. "Sorry, Totsuka-san. No time to explain."

As soon as Rikio rounded the corner and set down the drinks he'd retrieved, Neirah stopped bouncing around in one place where she was sitting on her knees at the foot of the couch. She was wrapped in one of Rikio's zip-up sweaters, losing her hands somewhere in the long sleeves as she crawled around next to Saburōta on the floor. She was by Saburōta's side when she watched Rikio take a seat behind her, her smile broadening with delight as she climbed the couch to join him. "He's pretty close to beating it this time!"

With a focused growl, Saburōta continued to rapidly mash the buttons on the controller he'd locked in a fierce death-grip. His effects, like hers, were set in various places around the room to dry out, leaving him in a bright t-shirt just in front of Rikio's feet. "Bastard's not gettin' away this time," he commanded firmly. "We got him, Onē-san!"

"Go, go!"

Tatara remained locked up in the doorway as he took in the sounds made by Neirah and Rikio while they cheered for their friend. He and Neirah had never had a game system, to his recollection, and so far as he recalled, they didn't host company often either.

After slowly closing the front door, he began to notice that among their already cluttered apartment, articles of clothing were littering the room. Tatara actively compared it to how he imagined that Yō's apartment might look when he brought strange women home, but he wasn't sure that was comforting. "Well, this is… different," he sang through an entertained beam.

Catching the sound of her roommate's voice, Neirah shuffled on the couch next to Rikio and stood on the cushions. She stretched her arms wide to either side with a delighted smile, and her curvaceous frame was concealed entirely down to her knees by Rikio's sweater. Her hair was still damp, in places, and her cheeks dusted with a soft pink against skin that he thought was typically darker. It seemed strange that Rikio looked to carry a duskier pigment than she had that night. "Tat-chan! You're home! We have guests!"

"I see that," Tatara announced fondly. "I'm glad you're home."

Reaching out to steady her wobbly hips, Rikio tugged on the front pocket of the hoodie to encourage her to sit down. "Careful, Neirah," he prattled nervously. "You're gonna fall."

With a faint moan, Neirah rolled her eyes and dropped obediently onto the couch just as Saburōta began to shout at the television screen for flashing signs of his defeat.

"What?! Nooo! I was so close! That bastard cheated!" He pointed at the television and turned to face his friends for backup. "You saw that right!?"

After picking some spicy snacks out of the bowl sitting on Rikio's belly, Neirah dropped her head into his lap with a meek whimper. "Sorry, Wolf-kun, but you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Yata-san's beaten this game a hundred times," Rikio instigated coolly. "Bandō can't even get past the first level boss."

With his hands folded neatly behind his back, Tatara dipped to one side and peeked down to where Neirah was snuggled up comfortably on the couch using her thick companion as a pillow. "Ah, Nei-chan? When did we get a gaming system?"

She flopped onto her back and looked up at her best friend from behind the sweater-paw she used to stuff wasabi peas behind her lips. "Yata leant it to us, remember? He and Fushimi-san got the newer version and said we could have this one."

A low, entertained rumble filled Rikio's chest as he watched Saburōta's wrath turn to defeated sadness. "It's still pretty weird hearing you talk about Yata-san so casually," he teased. "Just a few months ago, I was pretty sure you two were never gonna get along."

Neirah reached up and swatted his bare shoulder beneath the sleeve of his snug t-shirt before stealing another handful of dried peas. "Don't be rude," she scolded. "It wasn't his fault he didn't know how to deal with a woman who would rather arson over shoe-shopping."

"_Speaking_ of arson," Tatara pried. "All this water wouldn't happen to be here because you were swimming out around the harbour when that warehouse mysteriously caught fire, would it?"

Neirah flopped over onto her side with her head still on Rikio's thigh as she nibbled away on her snacks. Her dim words muffled behind the casual munching, but Tatara could make out the essence of her denial. "I haven't the slightest what you're talking about." Because of her overall intelligence being a smidge above average, every time she feigned ignorance, it was ironic.

Tatara's posture slackened with defeat as he pulled out his phone and began to message Izumo. "That's pretty much what we thought," he proclaimed soundly. "Guess I'd better let Kusanagi-san know you all made it back in one piece."

"Tell him he should come over too!" Neirah encouraged fondly. With a soft, energetic squeal, she pulled out her PDA and began to scroll through the display. "Here, I'll message Chitose-kun! Let's have a party, Tat-chan! We've never hosted before!"

With a subtle crease in his brow, Rikio paused his crunching and gently flopped his hand against Neirah's forehead while she smiled into the illuminated screen of her phone between her hands. "Ah, shit," he muttered bleakly. With his free hand, he set the bowl of wasabi peas onto the table and shifted beneath her attentive gaze. "I was afraid of this."

Despite her protesting, he removed his palm from her brow and snatched her phone before she could send her message. "The last thing we need is more people here to figure out that you caught a fever," he commanded callously. Even as she batted at her mobile device to resist his teasing, Rikio flopped his arm over the couch and casually passed her PDA off to Tatara. "Here, keep this somewhere safe until she goes to sleep."

Tatara looked at the two quarrelling on the couch with a vacant expression before a tender smile was lighting it up instead. Despite the flush of fever in Neirah's face, she was still smiling and laughing among her friends. If that wasn't the best medicine, he didn't know what was.

Growing frustrated with the game that only got harder as exhaustion started to halve his gaze, Saburōta tossed the controller down and toppled onto the floor. "It's confirmed. I officially suck at everything."

Neirah moaned gently through her smile and reached down to comb his dark bangs from the face she could see once he removed his _identity_. "Give it here, Wolf-kun. Let me try."

"Fine," he surrendered sullenly. "But you can't show me up. It's bad for a man's pride, y' know?" Reluctantly, Rikio let Neirah slink down beside her defeated comrade to try her hand at the game they'd dug out upon their return.

As she scuttled to the floor next to him and straightened, she tremored like his words held impact. "So, I have to be bad at it because I'm a girl?"

Saburōta shook his head. "Nah, you just can't be better at it than me."

"So, she has to be bad at it," Rikio rumbled roguishly behind a crunchy mouthful of his reclaimed treat. When Tatara grew nearer to oversee the commotion, Rikio's tone lowered in his address. "The idiots jumped into the water when the building went up." He continued his announcement quietly the moment Tatara joined him on the couch. "Bandō seems to be alright, but Nē-chan's acting pretty loopy. It was a pain just getting her into something dry. All she wanted to do was finish whatever Kusanagi-san told her to do."

Tatara shifted his gaze down to the sight of a cast iron pot of tea sitting on the table, untouched by their hunter. "That's not good," he carefully noted. "You know she's sick when she doesn't drink her tea."

With an agreeing hum, Rikio nodded sombrely. "I thought it'd do her good to drink something warm. I even offered to pour some over rice if she'd eat somethin', but all she seemed to want was cold tea and these." He held out the bowl of peas towards Tatara, who scooped out a handful before considering the unlikelihood of Neirah craving anything dry and spicy.

"That's strange," Tatara continued. "Dewa eats these kinds of things all the time, and when he offers, Neirah complains that they're too dry."

"She's been putting 'em away ever since we got back." Rikio returned his gaze to the sight of Saburōta while he grated over Neirah's ability to clear the first level of the game with ease. "Must be because she's burning up."

With a knowing smile, Tatara took up Neirah's phone and sent the message that she had been typing moments before. Afterwards, he turned to face Rikio with a kind smile. "Kamamoto-kun? Could you do me a favour and message Yata-chan?"

_Huh?_ Rikio met Tatara's kindness with a gentle whir of inquiry. "What for?"

Tatara tipped his eager smile towards the man with mischievous intent. "To invite him and Fushimi to the party, of course."

* * *

"No! That's wrong!" From where he lay on his stomach next to Saburōta, Misaki snatched the controller out of Saburōta's hands and began to play instead. "Look, see? You gotta jump up here and then bomb the shit outta that thing on its head."

"How did you do that!?" Saburōta demanded irately. "You just jumped halfway up the screen!"

"Here! Watch the buttons I press."

"Man, do they intend on beating this whole game in one night?" Yō droned from behind the unlit cigarette he'd just popped between his lips. His tone grew slightly muffled as he spoke around the ivory stick. "They've been goin' at it non-stop, and the sad part is, Bandō's not gettin' any better."

"They didn't have much of a head start," Tatara playfully assured him. "I don't think Bandō-kun's ever played this one."

"What _does_ he do?" Yō instigated snidely. "He's sure as hell not spending all his free time pickin' up girls." With a devilish snicker, he slapped the back of his hand against Masaomi's chest to get his attention. "Oi, I'm goin' out for a bit, wanna come? Or are you cool watching the virgins dick around with that game?"

Withdrawing the lighter from his pocket to drop it in his friend's palm, Masaomi smirked and shook his head. "I'm good. Besides, I'm pretty sure Bandō's about to get his ass handed to him."

Yō shrugged before attempting to climb to his feet. "Suit yourself-"

Masaomi's once casual gaze widened when a flat grey blur lunged across the room to tackle Yō to the ground. It took him a while to comprehend what was happening until he leaned around the halved partition in the kitchen to see Yō on his back defending his cigarette against the lion that mounted him.

"Give it here, Chitose-kun," Neirah commanded sternly. "You need to stop smoking so much. It's going to make you sick."

"The hell? Where's this coming from?!" Yō fortified edgily in defence of his recreational habits. From where he supported himself with one arm, the other pushed away greedy fingers as they attempted to liberate him of his poison. "You smoke too!"

Neirah gasped, the pigment in her cheeks flushing darker as her temper flared. "Chitose-kun, how could you!?"

Demonstrating his arrogant attitude, Yō closed his eyes and diverted his head to the side. "What? It's not like Mikoto-san or Kusanagi is here. Everyone else already knows." He snapped to attention when Neirah began to try and steal his package of cigarettes, but first, she had to find out which pocket he was keeping them in. With an urgent scramble, he kicked out his legs to try and shuffle away from her determination. "What the hell's gotten into you tonight? You've never tried to stop me before!"

From where he was watching around the corner of the partition, Masaomi began to snigger. "This is even more entertaining than watching Bandō suck at video games."

_Ehn?_ Misaki turned away from his thorough instruction to the sound of Masaomi's low instigation. "Wait, what is?"

On the couch in front of the television, Tatara sat calmly between Rikio and Saruhiko. "Kamamoto-kun, I know you said Neirah was acting a little strange, but that wouldn't happen to be because you tried to give her something for her fever, would it?"

Saruhiko watched the guilt immediately flood Rikio's face on the other side of the couch despite his lack of response. "Like she wasn't irrational enough."

From where he continued to observe his companion's peril, Masaomi swiftly rolled his hand in welcoming without taking his eyes off the spectacle. "No, this is great, seriously," he announced brightly. "Chitose's been after her for years, and now that he's finally getting her attention, he doesn't want it. Too bad Fujishima's parents always want him home early 'cause he'd get a kick out of this."

Misaki immediately sprang to his feet, his expression darkening with his rejection of Masaomi's news. "Is Chitose creeping on Tsukiyo again!?" He shoved up his sweater sleeve as he rounded the corner, preparing to go to war. "Alright, Chitose! Just 'cause Kusanagi-san's not here doesn't mean-"

It was Saburōta's turn to get involved when Misaki thumped to the ground on his backside behind him. He paused his game and turned over his shoulder to the sight of Misaki fleeing the kitchen like he'd just seen a ghost. "What's wrong, Yata?"

As soon as Misaki jumped to his feet, he immediately grabbed hold of Rikio's collar and jerked him from his seat on the couch. "You idiot! When you were tryin' to get Tsukiyo dried off, you didn't think to put fucking pants on her?!"

"Sorry!" Rikio chattered guiltily. "It was tough to get her to cooperate, and my sweater was long enough, so I thought it'd be okay!"

Misaki released him with one of his hands, his face burning with bashful heat. He immediately threw out his second hand to point at the sight of Neirah's panties flashing while she struggled against their fellow clansman. "That is _not_ okay! That is the exact _opposite_ of okay!"

As Tatara watched conflict break out between his guests, he meekly raised his hands in hopes of quelling the storm before the cramped studio began to crumble beneath their violence. "Ah, guys? Maybe we shouldn't fight indoors."

"Stupid Bakamoto! Who's the bigger pervert here?!"

"Come on, Yata-san! You know it wasn't like that! I was just tryin' to help!"

"Did anyone ever think that maybe Tsukiyo just needs to take some pills and go to bed?" Saruhiko interrupted dryly from his spot on the edge of the couch.

Despite being held out of place by Misaki, Rikio tilted his guilty gaze towards Saruhiko's suggestion. "Yeah, we did," he admitted docilely. "We gave her some, but then she started acting weird all of a sudden."

There was an outraged flash in Misaki's gaze as he dropped Rikio into his seat with a look of instant mortification twisting his face. "H-hold on. How many did you give her?!"

Rikio diverted his attention, rubbing his nape sheepishly as he started to fold out fingers to count, lowering a couple once he made it to four. "Ah, I dunno. A few…?"

With a furious roar, Misaki threw his finger out towards the sight of Neirah and Yō while they flailed around the kitchen. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?! Look at the size of her!" He slammed his balled fist down against the top of Rikio's head hard enough to rattle the entire room with his recoil. "Are you tryin' to kill Tsukiyo?! You shoulda just called me in the first place!"

"Why!?" Rikio whined while clasping his head. "How the heck was I supposed to know that?!"

"Great," Saruhiko muttered bleakly to himself. "So, not only is she sick, she's high on painkillers too."

Misaki's expression dropped to consider the entire ordeal. "This's somehow all Bandō's fault, I just know it," he growled beneath his breath.

"Why is everything always my fault!?"

Suddenly, the entire room startled to the sound of Neirah's disapproving scream, and moments later, Chitose was standing with the defiant woman slung over his shoulder. His expression was irritated as he steadied her squirming waist with one hand, using the other to adjust his prize between his teeth. "Alright, seeing as none of you bastards thought to help, I'm gonna need more than one of these," he growled. "Which one of you wants to babysit?"

Before anyone could accept or refuse the invitation, he strode towards the couch. He dropped the flailing woman across three laps, figuring that someone in the line would take responsibility for her vulnerable state. "You comin', Dewa?"

Masaomi chuckled and slowly climbed to his feet. "Okay, yeah, that was worth it." He dropped his hand on Misaki's shoulder with a roguish smile. "She's all yours."

Trying to stop the room from spinning wasn't easy as Neirah rolled over in Rikio's lap and watched her prey leave to do what she'd commanded him not to. "I've lost my edge," she murmured despairingly against Rikio's thigh. "What happened to the days when I could just look at him, and he'd listen?"

"Don't talk like that, Nē-chan," Rikio inadvertently begged. The last thing they needed was for their lion to become emotional in her vulnerable state. "You'll be right as rain soon enough, and then it'll be payback time."

With a desperate whimper, Neirah kicked out her feet behind her, beating Saruhiko's lap repeatedly at the end of the couch with her frustrations.

"Oi, cut that out," Saruhiko rumbled intolerantly. "This is partially your fault too."

"I know!" she shouted sadly.

Misaki was livid that his clumsy clanmates were unable to make sure that Neirah was adequately cared for before she found herself overdosed on medicine to help a fever that might not have been that bad in the first place. She seemed trapped in a permanent form of the overtired stage just before a crash.

With a disapproving growl, he tilted his gaze to where Rikio was trying to calm her down. "Lemme guess, she hasn't eaten yet either. That's probably why the drugs knocked her on her ass, huh?"

Looking guiltier by the minute, Rikio groaned and looked dismayingly into his empty bowl of wasabi peas. "She had some snacks, but-"

"She's not gonna get better if all she eats is peas!" Misaki commanded sternly. "She's gonna need real food!"

"But… She said she wasn't hungry…"

"Baka! Nobody wants to eat when they're sick!"

"But I-!"

"You don't count, fatass!" Diverting his vacant gaze towards the ceiling, Misaki let a low groan fill his chest. "I hope Mikoto-san beats the crap outta both of you for this," he announced dimly. "But if he doesn't, I'm sure Kusanagi-san will."

Turning his restless fury towards Tatara, Misaki's tone mildly softened. "Totsuka-san, what does Tsukiyo like to eat when she's sick?"

Tatara diverted his gaze in thought for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm not sure. This is the first time I think I've ever seen her like this."

His demeanour didn't shift as he closed his eyes, but Misaki reached out a second time and slammed his fist into Rikio's head. "I get that," he continued lowly. "What about when she's cold, then? Tsukiyo hates the cold."

"When she has a bad day, she usually comes home and drinks a whole pot of sencha tea and makes white miso soup with lots of shitake mushrooms."

Misaki blinked back at him while maintaining his blank expression. "Huh, kinda specific. But I guess you do live with her." After taking a quiet moment to consider their sickly companion, he crouched by the side of the couch in hopes of stirring her attention from Rikio's lap. "Hey, Tsukiyo?" Once Neirah had slowly turned her tired gaze to face him, he continued with a reassuring smile. "We're gonna make you somethin' to eat, okay? But you gotta eat it, or you're not gonna get better."

Luckily, she was a little too dozy to notice, but that was the first time since they'd met that her gaze didn't scare Misaki's away. It might have been her vulnerable state, or maybe the strength of the relationship they were able to forge, but either way, she wasn't coherent enough to appreciate it.

When Misaki straightened, he encouraged Tatara to sneak out from beneath Neirah's centre. "Alright, Totsuka-san! Just tell us what you need done!"

"I don't know if we have everything we need to make it," Tatara sadly murmured as he climbed out of the couch's middle. "I know for a fact that we don't have any mushrooms left. We've been eating at Kusanagi-san's bar a lot recently because of how often he needs Nei-chan to run errands, so we haven't been shopping for a while..."

Rikio was hasty to interject, climbing to his feet and settling Neirah back on the cushions in his absence. "That's okay! I think my mom's got some at home! I could probably get a few from there pretty quick."

"Now that's using your head!" Misaki encouraged spiritedly. "What else, Totsuka?! We can send Chitose and Dewa to the store if we need to!"

"Well, she likes leek in her soup too, but…"

Saburōta quickly scampered to his feet, eager to offer his help as well. "Kusanagi-san's probably still back at HOMRA with Anna-chan and King, right? I could go borrow some from him!"

"No way!" Misaki ordered impatiently. "It's your job to put pants on Tsukiyo, seeing as this is all your fault."

"E-ehn!? How is it _my_ fault!? _She_ pushed _me_!"

"Well, you're already wearing pants!"

"Okay, okay!" With a delighted chuckle, Tatara dismissed the prattling boys' worrisome concerns. "I see where this is going. Don't worry about that. While we wait for you two to come back with the ingredients we need for soup, I can find Nei-chan some pants."

"Awesome!" Misaki eagerly cheered. "Just make us up a list, and we'll take care of the rest, okay!?"

Saruhiko watched out of the corner of his eye as their gathering prepared to depart so they could scramble together the ingredients needed to take care of their sick huntress. It didn't surprise him that Misaki was the one to take control of the project. He might not have understood the woman as well as he would have liked, but he was quite skilled at caring for people who needed his help. It was the last thing Saruhiko wanted to think about during their visit.

His elbow sunk into the couch arm, and the side of his face rested in his palm. At first, he was busy looking out the frosty windowpane, but soon, the clutter scattered around the apartment attracted his restless gaze. It was the first time he'd ever visited Tatara and Neirah's home because usually, their detestable social gatherings would take place at Izumo's bar.

Interrupting his thoughts, he grunted lowly to the feeling of Neirah fidgeting on the couch, raising the toes of one of her feet to poke his shoulder. He tilted his gaze, watching her feet wriggle as she gently encouraged his attention. Looking from her polished digits to the gentle smile on her face didn't change the harshness of his expression as their friends dispersed on Misaki's command. "What?" he demanded flatly.

"I'm sick," she murmured coyly with a playful grin.

Saruhiko's expression didn't alter as he diverted it. "So what?"

Neirah couldn't keep her smile from broadening as she poked him a couple more times to reclaim his attention. "I bet I could be really annoying when I'm like this."

Tatara proudly smiled as Misaki took their list and delegated its contents between their five eager clanmates. He made sure to track all the details in case Neirah didn't remember them the next morning because he felt like it was vital for her to know how much everyone cared.

When he turned to consider Neirah's indecent state of dress and a possible remedy, he paused in the kitchen to the sight of Neirah curled up in Rikio's sweater against the couch arm with Saruhiko lazily stroking the arches of her feet as he stared out the window. His tender expression flooded with warmth. Every day that passed seemed to bring everyone closer, and the smiles were brighter. Despite their developing rivalry with the Blue Clan, he was thankful for their revival because it meant that they could share the workload. In the end, it allowed HOMRA to spend more time together, and it was those memories that would keep that bright smile in their hearts for years to come.


	20. Kame

**Kame**

* * *

**_January 18th, 2010_**

"Hey, I hate to do this after what I said, but now really isn't a great time for me.

No. Not really. It's just our lion's gone and gotten herself sick, so she's not in a real agreeable mood.

I didn't say that. I supposed you would be interested in _avoiding_ volatile situations like this." A low snicker sounded over Izumo's phone as he clutched it tightly to his temple and turned away from prying eyes. Then, he lowered his voice as he continued. "I have my moments."

"We can set something up once I figure out how to get her back home.

Because she sleeps better when she's around people." After a bright sigh filled with feigned irritation, Izumo shrugged his shoulders to the suggestion on the other line. "How am I supposed to know how you women think? How about next time you're here, you ask her yourself? Or, I'll do you one better. Seeing as I know you two don't get along, let's run a little field test on-

Hello?

Hello…?" Izumo groaned and disconnected the line that had already begun to sound with a dropped dial tone. "Good day to you too," he drawled with a sinister smirk. "Those two sure do know how to hold a grudge."

Unfortunately, the last thing Izumo wanted was to see Seri swing by for a visit while Neirah lingered in a vulnerable state. Something deep down warned him that she might snap, lashing out like an injured animal fearing social interaction. Across the bar, she was snoozing on the rosewood top with Rikio's hood draped over her feverish brow. He hadn't seen her wear anything but for a while, and he knew it was because that was where she found comfort. As her relationships with their friends deepened, she was beginning to take solace in momentums, which was a far step above when she used to sleep across Mikoto's lap to do so soundly. He figured that was why she had taken to ferreting away their possessions on occasion even after Saruhiko had confronted her about it. She didn't stop. She just got better at not getting caught.

It was becoming challenging to determine what sort of chill had nipped at their hunter's heels, and recognizing the symptoms worried Izumo that they were treating the wrong kind of sickness. "We dodged a bullet, this time. But if Neirah doesn't shape up soon, we're not going to have a choice but to go out gun's blazing."

"You said that like you think she has a choice." Mikoto cut his unenthusiastic leer across the bar to the same view locking Izumo's consideration. "You don't think she's really sick, do you?" He posed his words like a question, but some hints marked his anticipation for an answer equally as rhetorical.

There was a deep crease casting shadows across Izumo's focussed expression when he considered his king's blunt command. "I just told Seri that it's none of my business to know why women do what they do, but I know fevers, and I know her." He slowly turned his violet-screened eyes towards his king as he spoke in a low voice. "She's not burnin' up because she decided to go swimming the other night. She's doin' this to herself," he assured Mikoto confidently. "I've noticed it for a while now. It's the way she always complains that her body temperatures are a mess ever since you dragged her into all this."

Mikoto's tone was even but disconcerted as he spoke. "You think her powers are unstable?"

"It's hard to touch her and try to convince yourself that somethin' isn't trying to get out," Izumo theorized tediously. "And it seems to come with her ups and downs. It's a little subjective to think that her powers have mood swings as bad as hers, but you have to admit that it is strange. Anna doesn't seem to be affected this way at all." Neirah had always been a little unstable, or maybe just a bit too passionate. Whatever the case, it was beginning to catch Izumo's notice that the flames inside her had become such a staple in her life that they'd become one with each other. In that regard, the blaze seemed to develop a mind of its own. "All I know is that with the blues back in business, we can't afford to let her off-leash. It's hard enough keepin' the new kids outta trouble. We don't need one of our top guys settin' a bad example."

Though it didn't find his face, Mikoto felt a gentle pang of guilt to have put Neirah in such an unpredictable situation. He knew what it was like to have to repress emotion and power alike. It was never his intention to burden any of his clansmen that way. "Maybe we should talk to Anna," he calmly suggested. "Can't she usually figure out these things?"

"Be fair, Mikoto," he muttered exhaustedly. Izumo found it ironic that even after dismissing his ability to read the opposite sex, he still seemed to have a better grasp of it than any of his fellow clansmen. "Sure, we know somethin's wrong, but she's facing it with a smile this time. She's doing that for us, you know. She clearly doesn't want us to worry about whatever's bothering her."

Mikoto rolled his gaze to where he watched Saburōta linger quietly next to the woman sleeping on the bar with a guilty look on what was visible of his face. "Kind of hard to tell with the way you worry," he calmly droned.

"Then let's put it this way," Izumo impatiently yielded. "If she wanted us to know what was wrong, she'd tell us. That's what she did last time, remember? Totsuka made sure she learned the hard way that we're here to help." Sorting through some drying glasses on the keeper's shelf behind where Mikoto was resting his arm, Izumo's tone softened considerably. "Besides, I'm sure Anna-chan has already snooped. They're close, after all. That's how we know that we should stay out of it." He beamed slight reassurance at his king. "If it was something to worry about, you know Anna would have said something."

Mikoto closed his eyes and huffed out a gruff snort of amusement over his smile. "Says the guy who doesn't understand women."

"I have my moments."

With his eyes strategically concealed, Saburōta kept his head facing straight ahead of him even as his peripherals examined the unconscious woman seated by his side. One of Neirah's arms were stretched out in front of her against the oiled bar, keeping her place in her math textbook as her other curled under her slumbering head. His jaw was tight as he contemplated the risks of showing concern when Izumo was hovering so closely nearby, but when he watched a pained crease tighten her brow from her dreams, he turned to face her entirely. He touched the edge of the oversized hood flopped over her forehead, raising it slightly to check on her tender features as her breathing stabilized.

All she seemed to want recently was sleep. She was exhausted, and all the time. Saburōta didn't know much about the 'top-secret missions' that Izumo sent her on, but he knew they happened frequently. He may have known a little more than the others just because he was nosy enough to snoop. Though, all he managed to find so far was the bludgeoning force of Izumo's fist when he pried too deeply. All he wanted to do was take some of the strain off his burnt-out associate, but, deep down, he understood that his two left feet could never replace her. He was too clumsy, and maybe a little immature, seemingly the opposite of his agile companion. She was the rogue assassin, and he hit things that he didn't like. That was just the way of things.

But he still wanted to help, which is why he stayed. No matter the circumstance, being by Neirah's side was all he felt like he could do for her since the day they'd met. He wasn't strong enough to protect her or smart enough to solve her problems, but he could sit quietly by her side. Neirah didn't like to be alone under any circumstance. She hated cold, dark places. So, every time she started to fuss in her sleep, he'd shift his grip on his drink slightly, inconspicuously gliding his elbow into hers to spread warmth through their contact. If nothing else, he felt vindicated when she calmed again and returned to her deep slumber. He couldn't imagine what sort of demons she might be seeing to contort her brave face with fearful whimpers, but so long as he was by her side, he wouldn't let them have their way.

A guilty shudder made him drop the soft fabric of her hood when Saburōta startled to take notice of Kōsuke approaching, but his surprise may have been because the kind man didn't get to spend too much time with them during the week. Using careful hands, Kōsuke lifted a blanket over Neirah's shoulders to keep the chill from chasing up her spine between her skin and her baggy protection. "For someone who hates the cold, she certainly doesn't dress warmly in the winter." His voice was tender as he lifted the textbook off of her hand and quietly flipped it shut. Even if Kōsuke wasn't around nearly as often as he'd like, he understood Neirah's basics. It was why he was careful to adjust the sheet's comfort without disturbing the exhausted woman. "There's snow on the ground, and she's _still_ trying to wear that jacket."

As his hand clenched the cropped bolero-style leather laying on the bar next to him, Saburōta diverted his gaze with a heavy heart. "It's her favourite," was all he could manage in a bitter whisper. "Ever since Kusanagi-san gave it to her, she refuses to wear anything else." As someone who claimed that his effects were part of his _identity_, Saburōta felt that he could relate with that much, at least. Luckily, she had begun to surrender it at times in exchange for Rikio's clothing, but she still couldn't be too far from its comfort. The leather marked with HOMRA's golden insignia moaned beneath his strengthening grip as his teeth ground. "It's like… when she wears it, it reminds her that we've got her back. So… it's okay."

Kōsuke didn't shift his gaze when he strategically diverted the intensity of their quiet conversation. "She's been looking paler than usual, hasn't she?" He locked his consideration on the woman and the way her breathing remained steady with sleep. "It's probably because I don't see her as often that I've noticed."

"No," Saburōta murmured discreetly. "You're not the only one."

"I hope everything's okay…"

"Why the long faces?" From where he was standing behind his imported prize, Izumo offered the boys doting upon their lion a reassuring smile. "You can't honestly believe that this has anything to do with your little swim the other night." When Saburōta snapped his attention towards the suggestion, Izumo's expression softened kindly. "Look, you don't just get this sick from the cold in one night," he educated. "This is somethin' else entirely."

"Was that supposed to make him feel better?" Kōsuke softly challenged. "Because I think you just made it sound worse."

With a casual hum, Izumo focused his attention on their sleeping beauty. Dusting his fingers beneath her bangs, he rested the back of his hand against her brow. Like he had just finished describing to their king, the feeling causing Izumo's heart to palpitate was ominous. "Totsuka said she hasn't been sleeping at home," he diverted in excuse. "That might have somethin' to do with it."

"She was pretty excited to finish up that last job," Saburōta added dismally. "I feel kinda bad… I was the one that convinced her we should just quit."

Removing his hand from her clammy skin, Izumo returned his attention to his distraught subordinate. "Don't say it like that," he reassured. "I didn't say the cold helped. It's just downright stupid to believe she's like this because of that little stunt you two pulled in Minato." He straightened and started to run a cloth under the faucet to moisten it. "Besides, I got Yata and Fushimi to wrap things up on that front."

"I don't know if that will help either," Kōsuke humbly interjected. "Knowing Tsukiyo-san, it'll only frustrate her that she couldn't see it through."

Allowing Izumo a moment to wipe the perspiration from Neirah's feverish brow, Saburōta stuffed his hands into his deep jacket pockets and uttered a sheepish response. "I can't help but feel like I'm gonna get blamed for this."

"Oh, please," Izumo interrupted. "She's not that unreasonable."

Kōsuke and Saburōta both turned their bewildered gazes to face their manager. "Did you actually just say that?" Kōsuke droned uncertainly.

"And with a straight face," Saburōta instigated.

Izumo startled mid-groan when the entryway of his bar occupied with a friendly face that had become more familiar as time passed. "Well, look who's here," he sang in welcome. "It's like you knew that Yata was out and about today. Not at all suspicious."

With a friendly chortle, Gin reached up and tugged on the hair framing his face, completely ignoring Saburōta's defensive growl. "Eh, well, you know me, Kusanagi-san. I'm just trying to stay out of trouble."

When Izumo offered him a seat at the bar, Gin was happy to approach. Unfortunately, Saburōta's attention remained fixed with unwelcoming intent, and although Gin couldn't see much of his expression, he could feel the tension crossing the distance between them. Truthfully, Gin was surprised that Saburōta didn't hiss at him like a territorial stray. "Ah, hello!" he announced chipperly. He waved at Saburōta from a few seats down, keeping his hand erect for a few moments before he realized that Saburōta wasn't going to do more than leer at him with rejection. "You're Bandō, uh… Saburōta! Right?"

Noticing the aggressive flinch in the unsuspecting clansman, Gin recoiled apprehensively for his failed attempt at being sociable. "Please don't hit me again!" he rushed in submission. "It's just, Tsukiyo speaks highly of you, is all!"

Once Saburōta had given Gin the cold shoulder to care for his weak friend, Gin turned his friendly smile towards Kōsuke. He remembered that Neirah had described him as one of their non-violent members. "And Fujish-" Gin's brow twinged with malcontent when Kōsuke turned entirely without another word and abandoned the bar front. "O-oh… alright." With a heavy sigh, he faced frontwards and hoped for at least a little recognition from Izumo. "They're not overly chatty during the day, are they?"

Izumo's gentle smile didn't fade as he observed the estranged interactions between territorial men. "You caught us at a bad time," he reasoned. "Sorry, Okazaki, but I don't think our little lion's gonna be up for games today." He encouraged Gin to shift his attention by guiding it with his. He knew that the boy likely wouldn't recognize the woman all bundled up in oversized clothing to keep the cold out. "Looks like she's gone and worked herself under the weather. If you can believe that."

Gin's demeanour sank with disappointment as he watched Saburōta quietly adjust the slipping sheet over Neirah's shoulders again. "Sick? How come she didn't tell me?" His saddened gaze diverted to wonder how long she'd been feeling down. "I mean, I know she won't let me touch her, but I'm sure I still could have helped."

Izumo's brow knitted thoughtfully as he watched Gin's expression dim. "She's still on about that, is she?"

A sad smile curved his lips to consider the obstacles of their relationship. "She won't even let me hold the door open for her for fear we might accidentally brush hands."

Despite his concern, a soft smile brightened Izumo's face when he shifted his view towards their sleeping hunter. "Well, I can't say I'm not happy to hear that, but it's a little discouraging to think she's still livin' in the past. Here I was hopin' we were getting past all that."

"I understand…"

Turning to Gin saw a deeper crease in Izumo's brow to instigate a continuation from the oppressed man.

"It's hard to move on when something scares you that badly," he tenderly explained. "She feels like she's hurt a lot of people that she really cared about, so if we don't have powers like the rest of you, it makes it hard for her to believe that we'll be okay. Someday, I want to help her get over that fear, but I can respect that it's going to take time. I can be patient."

Izumo tilted his expression to one side as he eyed the considerate brunette suspiciously with a wry smile. "Don't make me like you, Okazaki," he teased. "You know full well that she's off-limits for the next thirteen years or so."

Perspire dampened Gin's collar as he held both palms flat out in front of his meek smile. "Ah! That's not how it was supposed to come out! Really!" he rushed out guiltily. Once Izumo had dismissed the threat in his face, Gin's tone humbled. "I meant as a friend. Like the rest of you." Growing braver, he locked his kind hickory gaze with Izumo's warming expression. "It would be pretty neat if she could hold me in that regard. When she talks about everyone here, she acts like a completely different person."

Izumo watched the gentle rise and fall of Neirah's shoulders as his smile softened with tender appreciation. "She does now, does she?" Like a whimpering dog waiting for his owner to wake, Saburōta folded his arms against the counter and laid his head in them, keeping a careful eye on his partner. It was amusing to watch, considering when Neirah was awake, Saburōta was bashfully intolerant of her nearness.

"It's quite beautiful, actually. Her eyes light up, and she smiles." He chuckled lightly. "Which might not seem strange to the rest of you, but to us normal people, it's a pretty big deal."

"_Normal People_?" Izumo mocked.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean anything malicious by that." Hints of disappointment kept Gin humble, but when he turned to face his napping friend, it replaced with concern. "She does look tired. I barely recognized her dressed like that." When Saburōta defensively shifted like he might interrupt the nagging conversation at his back, Gin sheepishly turned away and folded his hands out on the rosewood. "But I didn't think HOMRA was as active as it used to be. Did something suddenly come up?"

The sardonic caution returned to Izumo's face as he peeked Gin in his peripherals. "What'd I say about puttin' your nose out like that? You lookin' to lose it? 'Cause Bandō here's chompin' at the bit."

Gin shuddered a second time with a sheepish cough. "I don't mean to intrude or anything!" he jabbered. "It's just, Tsukiyo tells me a bit about what you're up to as a clan, and she hasn't mentioned much. That's all!"

Stepping across the bar to pick up the glasses in need of polishing, Izumo hummed thoughtfully. "I'm only sayin' this for your own good," he drawled. "There's a reason Neirah doesn't want you gettin' involved in all this. She doesn't want you to become a liability."

"That's lazy," Gin groaned contemptuously. "I'll remember that next time she needs help with her studies."

"Do you do that often?"

Gin seemed startled by the accusation. "Well, uh… that depends," he rambled. "Are you going to break all my bones if I say yes?"

An impatient growl sounded in the back of Izumo's throat as his exhausted stare admired his glassware. "I can't imagine what would make you think somethin' like that."

Poking his forefingers together, Gin diverted his sheepish grin. "The Chitose Incident of '08 didn't help." Immediately after he said the words, he lurched forward onto the bar and scoured the hall with worried eyes. "Oh, wait! He's not here, is he!?" The last thing he wanted to do was finally meet the man Neirah warned him to be sporadically possessive.

Staggered by his comment, Izumo gratefully recoiled when the glass he'd slammed against his bar didn't shatter under the careless pressure. "That little brat's gonna get it when she's feelin' up to it. Makin' me sound like some loose canon-"

"We have!" Gin interrupted urgently. He settled to the sight of Izumo's waning aggression. "Not in a creepy way either, just the normal sort-of-helpful kind. Since things have been so quiet for you guys, we've been pretty busy with the books."

Carefully considering Gin's words had Izumo's chest aching with pride to contemplate how devoted Neirah had become to her studies, and for offering such encouraging news, Izumo surrendered his abrasion entirely. "Has she ever said anythin' about what she might want to do after school?"

"You mean, like college?"

Izumo nodded calmly. "I just wondered if she might've mentioned anything in passing," he gently pried. "She used to be pretty defiant when it came to hittin' the books, but she's really come around full circle on that one. It almost makes me feel like she's starting to put it all together, y' know?"

"Well, not that she's mentioned to me, anyway," Gin nearly whispered. "To be honest, all she ever really cares to talk about is you guys." His expression immediately brightened with humour. "But, I mean, who wouldn't? School is pretty boring compared to having superpowers!"

Izumo's humbled grin flashed traces of disdain. "That's what I was afraid of…" After a quiet moment of allowing Gin to settle, Izumo surrendered a couple of the finer details. "There's a new king in town, and he's takin' care of business in a real blue way. He's handling a lot of conflicts with other beings connected to the slate, cleaning up the streets, so to speak."

Gin's expression startled with piqued curiosity. "Wait, new king?" he pried. "What happened to Suoh Mikoto-san?"

"Nothin'. He's right over there." Izumo tossed his thumb out to the side to direct Gin's attention. It made him want to laugh when he watched Gin's body instinctively stiffen to the sight of Mikoto's predatory glower watching him from across the room. Mikoto always seemed to be on high alert when Gin was around, claiming that he _got a bad feeling_ when the young lad came to visit. "He's still the same lazy ass he's ever been." He met the enquiry in Gin's eyes with a mischievous smile. "What? You mean she didn't tell you that we aren't the only ones?"

Gin frantically shook his head in denial.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" With a curt scoff, Izumo continued his explanation. "Well, we're not. On this side of the world, there are seven kings, seven clans." He closed his eyes and shrugged with an amused chortle. "From what I've heard, at least," he surrendered. "I don't pretend to know everything, but I know the clan run by the Blue King is straight to business. They've taken care of a lot of our little _problems_ before we even have the chance to get involved."

Gin's eyes were filled with wonder to listen to Izumo speak. "A blue clan…" The disappointment returned when he slowly turned his half-lidded gaze towards his sick companion. "No, she didn't tell me there were more of you," he whispered. Discouraged by the realization that his dreams were still far from becoming an inclusive reality, Gin turned in his seat to search the bar in hopes of diverting the subject. "I don't suppose Kamamoto-san is around, is he?"

Izumo recoiled in surprise. "Eh? No, he isn't right now, but why?"

It seemed like Gin just wasn't meant to get along with anyone the way he wanted to that afternoon. "No reason in particular," he admitted with his best attempt at keeping a smile on his face. He slowly climbed to his feet and gave a relaxed stretch. "I just thought it'd be nice to break the ice a bit, seeing as Tsukiyo isn't feeling well. We kind of got off on the wrong foot."

"You're a brave man, Okazaki," Izumo crooned. "For what it's worth, I think I disapprove of you less and less every time you drop by."

Gin tipped his bright smile over his shoulder towards the kind drone of his host. "It's worth more than you think," he proclaimed spiritedly. "Please tell Tsukiyo I wish her well when she wakes. She can message me anytime."

Izumo smiled kindly and waved at the young man's departure. "Until next time, then."

Saburōta continued to glare over his hunched shoulders towards, what he deemed, the escape of HOMRA prey. "Man, I hate that guy," he growled impatiently. "Every time he shows up here, I just wanna beat him until he can't walk away."

Izumo diverted his attention and cocked a brow at his riled clanmate. "Okazaki isn't the one who dumped her in a frozen canal."

"Oi! _She_ pushed _me_, okay!?"

"Whatever you say, _Bandō, baby_."

* * *

It wasn't until nearly an hour later that Neirah began to shift the kinks out of her body, and when she had, she let out a soft moan of discomfort. Dark lashes began to flutter as she took the noise around her into consideration with a furrowed brow, the baggy hood on her head disturbing until it fell between her shoulders. "Hot…"

"Look who's decided to come on back to us." Izumo slightly tilted so that he could lock his welcoming expression with Neirah's rousing sights. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Little Lion. You'll never guess who popped by while you were asleep."

When Neirah straightened, the blanket once draped over her shoulders had slid to the floor, and she gave her sleepy eyes a gentle rub. When she took a moment to realize where she was, the concern in her expression only deepened. "Did I fall asleep here?"

"You act like this is the first time," he teased. "Mikoto wanted to move you, but Totsuka mentioned that you haven't been sleeping at home either, so he just let you be."

When Neirah turned her head, her king's steady palm came over her brow just beneath her bangs to capture her roving gaze. "Still hot," Mikoto rumbled dimly. "Go back to sleep." He stated the words in a low command like it was the absolute answer to all of her troubles.

Izumo huffed out an exasperated sigh. "If it were that easy, Totsuka wouldn't've told you not to move her in the first place," he refuted. "Not everyone can fall asleep as easily as you can." Not to mention, he wanted to instigate that not everyone could heal with a couple of extra Zs.

"Shame." Mikoto bent to the side and picked up the blanket Neirah had lost in her ascent. "Feelin' any better, kid? You've been outta it for a couple of days."

Suddenly startling to life, Neirah's wild gaze pierced his casual expression with worry. "I've been sleeping here for _days_?!"

Dropping his head, Izumo approached and set a teacup on the bar in front of her. "I can barely tolerate you here for a couple of hours. Do you honestly think I'd let you sleep here for days?"

With her heart rate working to settle, Neirah lowered her hand from her chest and watched Izumo pour her a hot cup of tea. "I'm sorry. That caught me off-guard. I must have still been half-asleep, but I'm awake now."

"In that case, you should probably eat somethin' before you fade away to nothing like Kamamoto does in the summer," Mikoto encouraged. "There wasn't much of you there, to begin with, so someone like you might just disappear."

When Izumo finished pouring Neirah's tea, he rolled his eyes and returned the pot to its hotplate. "You know, I hate to agree with him when all he does is think about eating and sleeping, but he's actually right." Izumo leaned his hands on the top of the bar to support his weight as he continued. "Although it might seem easier in his simple world, you really should try."

Aloof, as she dug into her pocket to pull out her PDA, Neirah nodded like she was absorbing the words Izumo was speaking even if they weren't quite registering. "Wait, when you said someone came to visit-" A gentle groan filled her chest as she checked the missed messages in her inbox. There was a large number of mixed attempts at calling to go along with a generous helping of _Where are you?_s and _Is everything okay?_s. "Please tell me you didn't let anyone beat my friend while I was sitting right here, sleeping."

"Of course not." When Neirah cut her impatient leer towards Izumo, his expression humbled sheepishly. "_This time,_ I didn't, given you bein' sick and all," he reiterated confidently. "I was hoping to interrogate him instead."

Neirah's brow knotted incredulously. "Wait… About what?"

"Aye! Tsukiyo! You're awake!" Misaki called out brightly on approach.

From where Saruhiko was diverging courses next to his waving friend, his low instigation barely met Misaki's ears. "And she did it without the kiss of _Prince Charming_," he muttered dryly. "You must be so disappointed."

Misaki's smiling expression locked like his waving arm as the heat flooded his cheeks.

Izumo snorted his amusement and eagerly welcomed Misaki into their conversation. "Yata-chan and Fushimi took care of the second half of that job you and Bandō started the other night. Cleaned it up real nice, if I dare say."

Misaki startled when Neirah turned her disappointed gaze on him, and he immediately attacked Izumo for instigating. "D-don't tell her that!" he scolded under his breath. "You know those kinds of things are important!"

With a gentle sigh of discouragement, Neirah diverted her gaze and laid her upturned PDA on the bar beside her. She could respond to Gin later, but if she misspoke around Misaki, he was liable to dive into a deep depression for misinterpreting her. "It's fine," she whispered. "I'm clearly in no shape to be challenging fate right now, so I'm just glad everything worked out."

Sensitive to the heartache in her tone, Misaki cringed before enlightening to her consciousness. "But hey! Me and Rikio finally ended up hittin' Osaka the other day, after all, and we brought you back somethin'!" He rushed towards the bar not far from where she sat and flopped over its front to dig behind it.

"Don't even think about it," Izumo commanded sternly. "Not until she eats some real food."

With a defiant snort, Misaki pulled out the paper bag and clutched it against his chest to keep Izumo from snatching it back. "It's not like those stupid candies she's always eating. It's just bread."

"It's _dessert_."

A rebellious Misaki pouted as he considered the package. "Okay, 'sweet' bread," he corrected. "But sometimes it's okay to have sweet things when you're sick to keep up your energy."

He raised his sheepish gaze to meet Neirah's piqued curiosity, and relieving in her gentle consideration caused him to smile at her before offering the paper bag. "You said you wanted somethin' with tea in it, right? So, we got you this."

Gratefully receiving the package, Neirah peeked inside. The wafting of sweet green tea filled her senses and comforted her as she reached in to touch the sticky surface of the top matcha melon bun. Honestly, she wasn't hungry. Her stomach was bound in tight knots over the circumstance to befall her, and the last thing she wanted to do was eat. But the way her friend grinned at her as she discovered the thoughtful gesture had her insides uncoiling.

Neirah nibbled the inside of her flushed cheek, trying her hardest to lock the joyful squeal behind her lips. "You didn't have to do that…" she whispered sweetly.

A cocky grin curled Misaki's lips as he tossed his thumb over his shoulder to rat on his comrade. "Actually, Fushimi came too, and he was the one that reminded Bakamoto that he promised the day Tetsuko came around."

Neirah raised her alert gaze just in time to catch the guilty shudder of Saruhiko on the other side of the room, and her heart swelled. "You guys…"

"Yeah, that's cute and all, but don't think you're going to get away without eating a proper meal," Izumo reiterated sternly. "Totsuka has Anna upstairs, but he was waiting for you to wake up before he started anything. He's got everything ready to whip up some ochazuke, so I expect you to manage that much even if you are sick."

"Come on, Kusanagi-san," Misaki winged. "You can't bully a girl when she's not feelin' good."

"Don't you go gettin' involved too, Yata," Izumo ordered curtly. "It's bad enough that I've had to keep from threatening Totsuka to talk." He cut his peripherals from Misaki's flustered recoil to where Neirah's expression had grown distant while she returned her bread to the bag to keep it fresh. "If I find out you know something from that night you all hung out at their place-"

"I'll eat." Neirah's voice was soft and void as she spoke the quiet surrender under her breath. She turned to see her phone begging her attention with a faint light on the bar's reflective surface, but she didn't acknowledge it before continuing like she never noticed. "And then I'll be able to enjoy this wonderful dessert. Thank you, Yata."

Guiltily diverting his gaze, Misaki's expression immediately dampened with the sinking aura in the room. "Y-you're welcome," he murmured sadly.

Despite the disheartening tone of Neirah's reluctant acceptance, Izumo flashed her a kind and appreciative smile before speaking. "Great. I'll go get them then. You'd better start thinkin' about what you feel like now because you know that's the first thing he's gonna ask."

"With salted salmon and scallions, please… Unless we have white miso."

Mikoto watched the culpability well within his subordinate from where he lingered beside her, his expression calm but thoughts rampant with theories. When he watched her turn to recheck her phone, he spoke. "It's your old man, isn't it?"

Just as Neirah shifted her astonishment his way, his next blink delivered yellow-ochre eyes to the sight of her phone screen continuing to glow by her side, flashing 'Hisashi' on the caller display. It only rang when Tatara called her, so she typically didn't notice it otherwise. This time, she was intentionally about to let the hundredth call from her father go unanswered. His next blink had his eyes meeting hers, and he could tell that she was keeping secrets. Something also told him those secrets were bad for her health.

Without pressing the matter, Mikoto reached past her and took the phone from the bar top in a tight grip. As soon as she realized what he was doing, she tried to resist with a meek whimper, but his steeling clutch wouldn't surrender her mobile under any circumstances. Despite her struggling, he laid his thumb against the screen and gave it a solid swipe before holding the phone to his ear.

He didn't take his eyes off her while he spoke. "Yo."

When Izumo returned from summoning Tatara, he walked in on the sight of matching mortification marring both Neirah and Misaki's faces. With quiet calculation, he shifted his gaze from one to the other before returning it to Mikoto. "What did I miss?"

Mikoto's hot amber gaze remained fixed and watched a sea of emotion tumble in Neirah's deep cerulean irises, the pigment in her cheeks intensifying. He saw anger, he saw hurt, and at the end of it all, Mikoto saw hope flickering behind the flame he'd kindled deep within on the night she took his hand.

The line stayed silent for a long time before someone finally responded to the intensity of Mikoto's deep grumble. "I-I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number." The voice answering was rough, but not in an aggressive way. It sounded sickly, which caused an unnecessary rasp to abrade an already rumbling speech.

Before the man could disconnect the call with disappointment and shame, Mikoto was speaking again. "Are you looking for Tsukiyo?"

Neirah's heart stopped, and her vision began to tunnel as she got lost in the golden eyes of her king, instigating her future like he had the day they'd met. When Mikoto passed her the phone, a part of her wanted to hang it up, but something in his command kept her from being so cold.

Without cracking his fixed expression, Mikoto wiggled the device to encourage her to take it. "King's intuition," he reminded her.

Just as her fingertips touched her PDA, Tatara was joining them from upstairs and offering her a grateful smile. "Ah! Nei-chan! You're-" Before he could finish, Mikoto was holding up his hand to encourage their friend to silence while Neirah faced the challenge laid out for her by her leader. Catching the guilt in Tatara's expression to absorb the situation in an instant, Izumo grew just as confident as their king that they'd found the root of the problem.

Neirah's broadening world tremored as she lowered her widened gaze into a void where past and present collided. It was one thing to face Gin, Tomaya, but for the first time in over a decade, she heard her father's voice nervously repeating the suggestion that someone answer his inquisitive greeting on the other end of the call.

"Hello? Hello, who is this? How do you know my-?"

The entire bar seemed to silence around her. Then, her voice cracked to speak in a tone sweeter than any of her adoptive siblings had ever heard on her lips. "D-daddy?" The line went silent for longer than Neirah could bear, but the moment she lowered the phone like she might hang up, Tatara's comforting touch was clutching her wrist to encourage her not to. Even as she felt the fear well in her throat to choke her, she yielded to Tatara's kind embrace and slowly returned her PDA to her temple, waiting for the man on the other line to speak.

"Neirah, who was that man?"

The abyss closed in around her and made her feel like she'd disconnected from the peace she'd found in the classy Shizume City bar. Just when she thought tears were going to burn her eyes, her heart went cold, and her expression hardened around her dissatisfied whisper. "After all this time, that's the first thing you have to say to your daughter…?"

Neirah lowered her vacant sights as she listened to him prattle on worrisomely, but she couldn't feel the sympathy once offered to Gin and Tomaya. Maybe it was her curse that saw her father suffer the most traumatizing of fates, but at least some of her victims had tried to rise above. All Tsukiyo Hisashi seemed to care about was forgetting the pain, which meant forgetting that he ever had a daughter. "I'm sorry. I have to go." Her whisper was so feeble that her audience had barely heard the heartbreaking denial of Hisashi's efforts.

She closed her eyes, her ears ringing with the empty silence befalling the bar around her as she hung up her phone to the hum of her father's urgent pleas. In their gathering, Tatara was the one to look ashamed despite having just walked in on the altercation, and Mikoto looked the least guilty out of all of them.

When Neirah opened her eyes, she met the piercing ruby gaze of their young princess looking deep into her sorrow with sympathetic senses. Although Anna's sincere expression seemed void of emotion, Neirah felt her heart palpitate with the sensation of empathetic consideration radiating from the child that almost caused her to choke through her thin smile. "That was cowardly, wasn't it?" she sadly whispered.

Anna responded by closing her eyes and gently shaking her head, lowering her marble from her face. "Onē-san is brave," she rebuked just as tenderly. "That's why she can smile even though it hurts."

Misaki's chest tightened as Neirah coughed out a desperate chortle and drew Rikio's hood back up around her head, pulling the material down over her eyes to conceal her feigned amusement. "Tsukiyo… y-you okay?"

When she turned over her shoulder, spinning in her seat to face Misaki's friendly concern from beneath the protection of her borrowed sweater, her dry eyes sparkled with traces of the lies she wouldn't let slide. "Of course!"

And he wished he couldn't see them.

* * *

**_January 16th, 2010 12:18 am_**

"Thanks for helping me get her this far."

"Yeah, no prob. Just lemme know if you need anythin' else."

"That's great. Thank you!"

Tatara's gentle voice was soft to Neirah's awakening senses as she disturbed against the linens on her mattress, but Rikio's roughened retort softly grated until she was focussing more intently on processing their interaction.

She was exhausted. It felt like she'd been running on adrenaline for weeks, and it was all crashing down on her that cold January night. Without realizing it, she shivered, her slender fingers balling her blankets in her hand to tug them closer to her breast. That was when she felt Tatara's tender touch disturb the hood she kept draped over her brow like he was pulling cotton away from a nesting rodent.

"Did we wake you?"

The eyes that fluttered open immediately slipped shut like Neirah had been lulled by the soft tone of his voice, breaking the dark around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to."

His light laughter remained soft as careful fingers dusted the hood from her face. "What are you apologizing for?"

When she reached out to clutch her pillow tight to her face, she also drew her knees up beneath the sheets until they touched her chest. "I was a terrible host." After her bashful expression slurred a muffled apology against her pillow, she twisted to bury her face in its entirety. "No body's going to want to come here anymore."

Tatara's smile broadened even as his sad eyes watched his touch comb her tousled tresses from around her face. "That's not true at all," he reassured her optimistically. "In fact, no body's actually left."

Surrendering to her curiosity, Neirah turned one eye up out of the plush of her cushion. "They're still here?"

"It got pretty late, so I told them they could if they wanted to." His voice softened as he adjusted sheets up over her shoulders. "Besides, I know that you can sleep easier when you're surrounded by your friends." All at once, Tatara felt her trembling, and he knew that she was crumbling beneath the pressure building over her burdened thoughts. He heard her first small mewl escape, so he lowered his fingers to her face to catch her silent tears that were trying to slip past his notice in the dark. "I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong."

The tickle of Neirah's lashes against her pillow caused her to stir as she stared vacantly into the luxury. "Do you remember when I spoke to my aunt the other day after school?"

He chuckled softly to recall. "You mean when you threw one of the couch cushions at my guitar for interrupting?"

She nodded sheepishly into her pillow. "It's… it's my father." Even though she felt warm and comfortable in her bed, the icy claws of reality were intent on battling Tatara's reassuring touch for a chance at seizing her heart. But he defended it. No matter how cold the world was around her, he defended her against the frost determined to settle around her soul. It was their fire that battled snowfall until she was ready to face the truth on her own. "He's… been very sick for the past little while." When she felt Tatara's touch against her body falter, she immediately wormed closer to where he sat on the edge of her bed like she was desperate to cling to it. "But… he's been smoking and drinking every day since I was born, so I suppose… this shouldn't come as much of a shock."

From where he sat protecting her from the cold, Tatara's disheartened gaze dropped over the edge of the bed to look at the blackened floor beneath his feet. "So tonight… when you attacked Chitose."

Neirah's first sniffle attempted to stall her face from draining sentimentally, and her whisper was hardly audible against white sheets. "Why does he have to wait until he's dying to remember me...?"

Tatara's sights shifted when he felt Neirah unbury her hand to steal his touch, snuggling against it to draw from his reassuring presence. And he let her. He held her fingers lightly as she snivelled, letting his eyes roam her small bedroom. He figured that she indulged in his photography hobby more than he did because she had started to request his prints. Then, she pinned up a series of smiling faces like a beautiful mind map over one wall of her room. He didn't know if there was a method to the way she'd arranged them yet, but sometimes it was fun to theorize.

He did so, right up until he caught sight of one of her favourite images tacked near the far righthand side. The photograph depicted Yō with his arm wrapped around Neirah, and it was clear that Yō's second hand was taking the picture with his mobile. Then, on his left, Neirah was smiling and reaching towards Masaomi, dragging the unsuspecting addition into their selfie. Masaomi didn't look very happy, but the way Neirah beamed next to Yō was radiant. The image froze around the time where she started to thieve Masaomi's hat and other various articles from her clanmates. It was evident in the photograph that Masaomi was uncomfortable without it, but she always did her best to make sure everyone felt included.

"I don't want… my curse to become yours," she interrupted faintly. "I want to protect… all of you. Always."

Considering her sleepy confession had Tatara's heart racing. "But Chitose is right," he taunted under his breath. "Nei-chan smokes too, sometimes. Is it fair to reprimand him for doing the same thing? Especially when he's not the only one."

Neirah diverted her face entirely with a bitter groan. "I don't care about me. I can't live without Chitose-kun." Her tone softened impossibly further. "I don't want to…"

With a knowing smile, Tatara sighed softly and rubbed his thumb over her tight knuckles. She was still a little loopy due to unnecessary medicating, but her feelings were genuine. They could work out the details at a later date. "I understand, Lion-chan," he whispered kindly. "But I don't think everyone's going to stop in just one night. We have to be fair."

"I know…" she admitted vaguely. "I… wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't really anticipate to come on so strong."

He had to adjust the way his laughter sounded in the room a little louder than he anticipated. "Ah, somehow, I don't think he minded all that much."

"Is he here too?" she muffled meekly. "Chitose-kun?"

Tatara nodded lightly, and when he realized that she couldn't see him do so in the dark, he spoke. "Yes. He is."

It wasn't that she doubted Tatara's honesty, but she supposed she was surprised that the floor around their already cramped apartment littered with her fellow clansmen. Saburōta and Misaki had stayed pretty close to where they'd been all night playing video games on the television. Saruhiko sat cocked against the back of the sofa in a position that Neirah could only imagine would be quite uncomfortable, and not far from where Rikio flopped on the floor near his feet.

Somehow, Masaomi had ended up with the entire couch, and she could only imagine what kind of confrontation she missed to decide that outcome. Then, between the coffee table they'd pulled to the side and the base of his sleeping comrade's perch, Yō was sprawled across the floor, occasionally swatting away Masaomi's arm whenever it dropped onto his brow.

Neirah's mild gaze immediately dropped as she humbled and delicately tip-toed her way around her sleeping friends. Luckily, most of them were pretty sound sleepers, save for Masaomi and Saruhiko, who were safe from her fumbling where they slumbered. She was glad that Tatara didn't admonish her from crawling out of bed in her current state, but it was because of that state that she couldn't sit still. Her worlds were colliding again and causing strain on her over past guilt that she couldn't escape. And he was right. Whenever she was afraid, or sad, or lonely, nothing calmed her restless spirit quite like being surrounded by family.

Yō was lying on his back with one of the couch throws behind his head, his brow still knotted from the last time he'd knocked the tossing Masaomi's arm out of his face. He was moments from shooting upright and beating his friend unconscious to get him to stop disturbing him when he considered that the interruption had differed from the last. _Ehn?_ With a faint groan, he narrowly opened a single eye and peeked to a welcome weight crawling up alongside him, obstructing the circulation in his arm until it was numbing. "Nē-chan? What-"

"I'm sorry…"

Her voice was almost too weak to comprehend, but the weight carried in her broken tone had his chest tightening with dismay. There was a nervous hitch in his breath as he considered her sleepy features lining his side. After a moment, he was stealing his arm from underneath her. She uttered a disappointed mewl to the feeling of his rejection, but it only encouraged him to smirk as he adjusted. "Trust me. I've been here before, and this really sucks in the morning," he softly taunted. "I'll stop smoking if it means I get to keep my arm."

She didn't have enough energy or spirit to smile at his teasing, but she felt it in her heart, spreading warmth throughout her body as he helped her adjust against him. "I didn't mean-"

Before she could continue her meek rebuttal, she was gasping lightly to the feeling of Masaomi's arm falling and settling his hat on top of her head with a playful grin. When he raised his forearm back over his closed eyes, his smile twisted wickedly to mock the exchange. "Quitting is the least you could do for hogging all the attention."

"Oi, you got the couch, I got the girl," Yō defended curtly. "But I guess that isn't much different from any other Friday night- ow! Damn it, Dewa!" Yō growled lightly and rubbed the ache from his crown.

"Go to sleep, or I'll make you sleep," Masaomi grumbled protectively. "Try anythin' funny, and I'll put your lights out, got it?"

Finally, the seeds of her smile began to spread across her face as Neirah bumped her brow against the centre of Yō's chest with a faint giggle to keep from rousing their other friends. "Good night, Dewa-kun."

"Night, Nē-chan."

Nearby, Misaki was coiling nervously with flushing cheeks to the sound of heartache in Neirah's voice when she settled behind his shoulders next to her friend. He had never heard her speak so vulnerably before, with traces of tears in her trembling voice. And he supposed, it was equally as unnerving listening to the tender care coming out of his typically boisterous companions as they doted on her with their concern. It was what separated him from the rest of her long-standing friends. She had never trusted him enough to show him that side of her. Though, he didn't have the slightest idea what he would do if she ever did.

He was left to linger on thoughts of the time they'd spent together on the rooftop at sundown. Neirah had finally begun to open up to him that day, but it didn't seem to do more than crack the tip of the iceberg. She'd never let him any deeper. A part of him felt isolated by the realization that he was still trying to build them a wooden bridge with burning hands. Without much in the way of words, the three interacting members at his back shared apology, understanding and reassuring hope. Misaki could feel it from where he was lying, pretending like he didn't hear them interacting, and he was jealous of that love.

Turning over his shoulder once the room had settled again, Misaki let his quiet gaze steal a peek. Yō seemed to settle into place with his arm around the woman flopped along his side with her head resting on him beneath Masaomi's cap. Then, Masaomi's hand must have slipped over the edge of the couch again. But instead of swatting it away, Neirah snatched up his fingers, holding them still against Yō's chest to keep them from disturbing him any further. Everything seemed peaceful and still in the humble abode, but Misaki could see it. Even though her expressive eyes hid behind thick kohl lashes, he saw the tension binding her troubled expression as she slept. It was something more than the guilt of trying to rob Yō of his cigarettes earlier that night. All he could do as he drifted off to sleep was try and imagine what might be troubling the woman who wouldn't quite open up her world for him just yet.


	21. Kyusu

**Kyusu**

* * *

Ever since her secret had gotten out to her clan, Neirah was reluctant to visit the only place she had truly felt at home. Her feet were heavy that day as she walked through the streets with her schoolbag draped over her shoulder and her fist tugging on her skirt to keep the blustery breeze from upturning it. _January is almost over_, is what she kept telling herself as the remainder of the snow-speckled streets revealed themselves under the bright sun. It wasn't that there weren't chilly days in February, or any month, for that matter. She just hoped, deep in her heart, that if more time passed, her friends would forget that she had family outside of HOMRA.

Mikoto was the worst. Since the day earlier that month that he answered Hisashi's phone call, her relentless father had been calling her almost daily. If Mikoto noticed her phone ringing outside of her comprehension, he would answer. It had become annoying enough that she had stopped carrying her PDA altogether, which caused Izumo's lectures to intensify. All of this equated to her peaceful home straining because of a past she couldn't face. It reminded her of her first year with HOMRA, the courage it had taken her to ask her king for aid. But this time, she didn't want it. She didn't want anyone's help. She tried to face her fears on her own to prove that she could. Unfortunately, as she passed the time procrastinating, her patience wore thin.

"Tsukiyo! Hey, Tsukiyo!

Neirah's ears rang with the sound of Gin's voice calling out to her as Izumo's bar came into sight, and all she wanted to do was sprint the rest of the way in hopes of escaping his prying eyes. The Red Clan hadn't been nearly as hostile with him as they used to be, and she found it ironic that she only had herself to blame, but she wished they'd chase him off just once more for old time's sake.

She didn't run, but she didn't stop either, forcing him to push his physical limits to catch up to her. Gin had never been overly athletic, but he acted more than determined when he had his heart set. On those rare occasions, nothing could stagger his blind determination, and he would give anything to succeed. Gin had been that way since they'd first met. Once he set his mind to something, telling him 'no' wasn't an option. Eye contact was something else she denied him when he finally arrived next to her, clasping his heaving chest like he'd sprinted a marathon.

Gin's voice was weak with exhaustion by the time he'd finally straightened, but his subtle smile paid it no mind. "Didn't you hear me calling out to you?" he murmured apprehensively. Despite his interrogation, his tone remained meek and troubled by uncertainty. "I've been chasing you for quite a while."

It was clear that Neirah wasn't going to show him sympathy. "How could I have not?" she bleakly droned. She kept her tapered azure gaze locked on the sight of her home, reminding herself that every step drew her nearer to its comfort. She would take their nosy prying into her personal affairs if it meant she didn't have to face Gin that afternoon. "I think the whole block could hear you."

Gin startled to the intensity of her expression, which caused him to fall a step behind her. With a gentle catch in his voice, he continued. "Ah, sorry. It's just… you kept walking."

Her tone was flat as she rejected his sincerity. "That's because I have somewhere to be."

Letting a half-hearted smile return to his lips, Gin reached up under the ruby frame of his glasses to scratch his temple. A hostile vibe was causing his brow to perspire while he contemplated her seriousness. "Y-yeah, you're always there. That's how I managed to find you." He turned his docile expression her way and searched it for signs of mercy, turning up with nothing reassuring. "You haven't answered any of my calls for the past week, so I worried you might've gotten sick again."

"I can assure you that I'm quite well." Her forward statement was slow in hopes that he wouldn't get many more quips in before she had passed through the front doors of the bar. She hoped that Yō was there, or Saburōta or Misaki, someone who would sense her unrest and immediately move in for the attack. "I haven't been carrying my PDA lately."

There was genuine concern on Gin's face for a moment before he instigated the conversation, encouraged to lighten her mood with talk of her treasured friends. She always became more approachable when they were the topic. "Is Kusanagi-san okay with that? I mean, he gets worried about you, doesn't he?"

Neirah finally stopped and not close enough to HOMRA's entrance to dive through the doors in search of cover. Her final step fell slowly against the pavement, and her fists balled by her shapely hips as the fire flickered behind her eyes. "That's none of your business," she sneered under her breath. It took everything she had left that day to keep from baring her fangs and roaring her displeasure. Instead, the words spat vehemently from deep within her chest, and they came out roughened as a result. "Don't pretend like you're one of us."

With a soft whimper, Gin recoiled by her side. Her words pierced him and left his heart to ache with uncertainty as his timid expression watched her face contort with traces of rejection. It had been a while since she had been so cold. "I-I'm sorry." He wasn't sure why he was apologizing for caring, but he felt like his concern had somehow enraged her.

A sharp, stabbing pain caused Neirah to grind her teeth as she considered the abrasion to attack her kind companion, but she couldn't lighten her demeanour. All she wanted was for him to leave her alone. She pinched her curt retort through her clenched jaw in hopes of keeping her tone even, despite her blood beginning to boil like molten metals preparing to forge weapons for their clash. "Go home, Okazaki-san."

She'd always been formal with him to avoid familiarity, but something about the way she spoke his name that day filled him with feelings of detachment. The moment she moved to step away from him, desperation seized his body and dismissed all forms of caution. Something deep inside warned him that if he let her walk away, he might never see her again. With a panic-stricken expression desperate to hold on to their estranged companionship, Gin reached out with frantic fingers towards her shoulders in hopes of stopping her retreat. "Tsukiyo, wait, I-!"

With wild eyes blazing, Neirah sidestepped the contact, leaving him to stumble forward when she leapt away from where he had overstepped and nearly made contact with her skin. He knew what he had done the moment their eyes locked, but at that point, it was too late to forgive him. "What do you think you're doing?!" she thundered wrathfully. "How many times have I told you-?!"

"Not to help a friend!?" Gin was just as surprised as Neirah was when he raised his voice to her, and although he was the one to make demands, he was also the one to flee backwards a step. The force behind his words marked his passion on the subject, but it was a passion he'd never displayed before. Mild-mannered was always an accurate way to describe the man, or so he thought, up until that point.

His breathing began to tremble as he watched her seething violently in front of him. Suddenly, she had become the fierce animal that was seen by her victims, the underground hunter that always caught her prey. There was a lethal glint in the lion's eyes as she stared back at him in utter bemusement, watching him regret his decision to provoke her. A more intelligent part of him realized that a tactical retreat might have been in order, but he couldn't help trying just one more time to remind her that he wasn't going to give up on her.

"I know something is wrong," he rushed out frantically. "You were sick for a while, and then you stopped carrying your PDA, and now you're acting pretty tense. Things were going well between the two of us up until earlier this month. If I did something wrong-"

"Stop talking." Neirah's words were rigid and filled with venom as she hissed them between ground teeth. "This doesn't concern you!"

Gin took a slight step towards her, growing braver with the consideration that she hadn't lashed out or retreated. She wasn't far from her friends, but she had yet to call out to them for aid. He had to believe that was because she wanted to hold onto the moment as desperately as he did. "Did something happen to one of your fellow clansmen? Is Kamamoto-san okay?"

"Enough!" Her livid roar was enough to petrify him in one place, causing his entire body to quake as the beast flashed its fangs. "Don't you dare talk about my life like you could ever understand!"

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" he meekly defended. "But how could I when you won't let me?! You didn't even tell me that there was more than one clan, in Japan, none-the-less. You didn't tell me there were more kings, or that you didn't get along with them. I was worried about you! It's one thing for you to fight with normal people like me, but those rival clansmen have powers too, right?! That means they fight on the same level as you!"

Wild eyes flashed ominous malice as her expression drained of all reason. "Don't look down on HOMRA," she cautioned him in a foreboding hiss. "None of them could even come close to matching our strength."

Suddenly, she appeared robotic in front of him, like she'd been possessed, or programmed to make such a condemning statement the moment her pride felt threatened. Gin shook off his apprehensions in hopes that he could finally break the barrier that she'd used to lock him out. "What's keeping you from telling me what's wrong?" He threw out his arm and nervously pointed towards HOMRA, sitting not far from where they stood. "I bet Totsuka-san knows! You tell him everything!" His voice lowered with his arm. "And, I guess, I don't understand why. You weren't even sure that he existed, at first, but you tell him more than you would ever tell a friend who's been by your side for far longer than he has. Someone you knew from the start was real."

He quickly retracted his arm towards his chest, watching Neirah begin to tremble with what he presumed was ire. He softened his voice, creeping just one more step forward in hopes that she would finally open her heart to him, even if it were the left side. "I promise I'm not trying to replace him. I just wish you'd tell me what I'm doing wrong. What happens if there ever comes a day when he's not there anymore, just like you were afraid of? Are you just going to go through your entire life, relying on a single person to help you through the hard times? And if so, why can't it be me?" Disappointment clouded his hickory eyes as he lowered them towards the ground. "Is it because I don't have special powers like he does? Or-"

"Leave." Neirah's low growl was frothing with intensity, and as Gin observed her ferocious switch in disposition, he swore he saw flames licking her white knuckles in preparation to extend her claws.

But he couldn't leave. He'd never been an overly confrontational man, but something about the suffering woman in front of him promised that she was worth the struggle. "I-I won't," he persisted during his unsteady approach. "Not until you finally see that there are other people here who care about you. I'm not afraid of being cursed. I want to help you."

"I don't need your help." Neirah slammed her clenched fists down by her hips and pinched her eyes tightly shut as she raised her voice in a livid screech. "Get out of my life!"

Just as Neirah was about to lunge with her fist drawn alongside her head, she felt a strong hand arresting her collar to keep her steady. The opposing set of fingers fell on Gin's chest before the kinked digits extended, the lazy effort causing enough force to result in Gin shoving backwards. She watched him tumble to the ground beneath the strength past the lick of warning flames weaving between thick fingertips, and she raised her hand to the centre of her collar to touch the immovable reassurance resisting her persistence. "Rikio…" she whispered faintly.

Rikio's expression was hard, and luckily, his sunglasses concealed the burn in his eyes as he glowered at the man daring to raise his voice to their hunter. He'd never liked Gin from the start, so he wasn't long in taking Neirah's defence when he heard elevated tones bantering in the street outside of HOMRA. As far as Rikio was concerned, the moment that Neirah raised her voice like that, it was time to intervene. "You heard the lady." His tone was a deep snarl under his breath, similar to the one he'd used on Gin the day they'd met. "Get lost."

Finally, the hesitancy returned to Gin's expression as he stared at the defence his persistence had summoned. "B-but, Kamamoto-san-!"

"S' this guy givin' you trouble, Tsukiyo?!" When Misaki stepped out along the opposite side of her as Rikio, he slammed his anxious fist into his opposing palm with a bright burst of flame. "I knew that nerd was no good! Want me to waste him?!"

Neirah's heart was in pieces watching Gin raise his forearm with a look of fear on his gentle features, but it was hard to determine whether or not his likeness to Tatara had anything to do with her guilt. All he wanted was to consider himself her friend, and she threw it back into his face. She had never felt so cowardly as she did at that moment. It wasn't fair. Her grip on Rikio's fingers tightened as she fought her welling emotion, trying to untangle her tongue and tell her hounds to heel. She didn't know how to remind Gin that her avoidance was only to protect him because she cared to have him in her life. It was something she worried he'd never believe after she had been so cruel.

Without a further command, Misaki tilted his rear heel against the ground to brace his stance in preparation to pounce. "Don't just sit there," he commanded ardently. For every second that Gin lingered paralyzed by his indecision, Masaki's body grew tighter. "We said beat it-!"

A staggered gag intercepted his riled strike when Rikio retracted his hand from Neirah's collar to snag Misaki's sweater, keeping the unruly youth from advancing any further. Rikio had felt the tender tremor in Neirah's fingers, begging him to maintain order while she struggled to find her words, so that was what he did and without a second thought.

"Damn it!" Misaki roared. He stumbled backwards and straightened at Rikio's feet, stretching his body as tall as it would go to try and distract Rikio's attention away from where it carefully observed Gin from behind his shades. All he _wanted_ to do was knock brows with the interfering presence. "What the hell's the big idea, callin' me back like that?! You just gonna let asshole's like this go around threatening Tsukiyo?!"

"But I didn't-"

Gin flinched when Rikio locked his forearm around Misaki's throat to keep the irritated vanguard from lurching back on the offensive. All the while, his eyes never left Gin's trembling mocha stare. "Last chance, Okazaki," Rikio rumbled flatly. "Turn tail, or I'm turnin' him loose."

"What the fuck?!" Misaki yapped. "I'm not some dog you can sick on whoever you damn well please-!"

"Then quit acting like it!"

Misaki startled to the sound of impatient rage that seemed to crack Rikio's generally unconfrontational personality with a fierce intensity. Just when he was about to squirm some more, he caught the sight of Neirah lingering behind them, her face twisted like she was fighting the need to scream. In an instant, he'd stopped scrambling, letting his clawing fingertips still against Rikio's forearm as he watched Neirah's eyes glaze. They were beautiful eyes, filled with emotion, and none of what he saw wanted to hurt the man Rikio had stricken to the ground.

"Shit…" Misaki's brow knitted before he hissed bitterly and slithered out of Rikio's grasp. "Let go of me, fatass," he spat under his breath. Once he'd broken free, he managed to rein in his temper in respect of the wishes Neirah couldn't speak, wishes that Rikio had already heard. Part of his frustration remained with being forced to play catch-up to his associate, who seemed to comprehend their hunter far better than Misaki ever could.

When he turned to lock his eyes with Gin's, his entire body stiffened with the need to attack anyone responsible for hurting his friend, and she was undoubtedly hurting. "Well, you heard him then." Turning his nose up and closing his eyes, Misaki flipped out his hand to banish Gin's nuisance. "Go on. Disappear, okay? Unless you're lookin' to leave here in pieces."

"You're not welcome here anymore, Okazaki," Rikio added gruffly. "Next time, I won't hold him back."

Gin's breathing faltered, and he felt the cold sting of betrayal deep within his core. He didn't take his eyes off Neirah, and although she had lost her edge, she didn't raise her voice to call off her protectors. "Tsukiyo… C-can we talk about this-?"

"Oi!" Misaki snapped to attention lividly as his short fuse rekindled. "What'd I just say, shithead!? Are you lookin' to die?!"

"Yata…" There was a tenderness in Neirah's speech that threatened to weaken further if the situation continued to escalate.

When Misaki whirled to face her, he immediately softened to consider the look of hurt on her face. "Y-yeah, what is it?" he yammered. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

She _was_ hurt. She was hiding too much pain for anyone to comprehend, but she needed to face it on her own. Luckily, Rikio understood that, supporting her with unspoken comfort as he forced the other two men to comply. He was her rock in an uncertain storm, weathering the conflict to keep her safe from the icy claws of reality set to sink into her pulse.

Misaki startled to the feeling of Rikio's hand on his shoulder, and when he tilted his gaze, Rikio had finally let Gin out of his sights to shake his head. Once Rikio's hand slipped away from Misaki's arm, it immediately wrapped around Neirah and encouraged her to walk away from the situation that was causing her discomfort. "Leave it alone, Yata-san," Rikio cautioned him sternly. "He's not worth it."

_Tsk_. Misaki turned away with a bitter sneer and snorted his retort. "Yeah, guess you're right."

Neirah wanted to cover her ears when she heard Misaki deride her friend. It wasn't what she wanted, and to leave Gin sitting on the cold ground alone after he'd just faced a bleak fate wounded her. But she didn't need anyone else. She didn't need any more friends, any more help, any more family. She just needed HOMRA, and so long as Tatara was by her side, she would beat away the cold and prove to everyone that she could do it by herself.

* * *

"And then the bastard yelled at Tsukiyo for no good reason!" Misaki raved. "I wanted to kick his ass, but stupid Kamamoto was all like _he's not worth it_, so he got away! You hear that, dumbass!? You let him get away!"

"Cut it out, Yata-san," Rikio sullenly ordered. "It isn't like Okazaki's a threat to Neirah anyway."

"That's not the point!" Misaki remarked his livid retort, whirling on his heels to face the man who had betrayed their purpose. "Only a real scumbag would threaten a girl like that!"

"So, Okazaki shows his true colours," Izumo murmured soundly. He closed his eyes with a gentle sigh as he absorbed their tall tale. "Too bad. I was just startin' to like the kid."

"That wasn't how it happened…" Neirah's voice was mild as she interrupted the dynamic conversation with a soft sigh of her own. "It was my fault that Okazaki-san raised his voice. I said some terrible things to him today. Attacking him over something that makes him who is… that was incredibly unfair."

Pivoting to return his protective sights towards Neirah, Misaki was quick to defend her actions as if she were seeking justification. "Yeah, but he deserved them!" he retaliated. "Nobody should _ever_ make HOMRA's Red Lioness feel sad!"

The entire room stilled as Neirah slowly raised her gaze and connected it with Misaki's, a stern warning in the stiffness of her expression as she spoke. "What makes you think I was sad?"

Misaki startled, retreating a step when he fell under the scrutiny of the room. "W-well, I- I saw it in y-your eyes…"

"Then you were imagining things." With her frosty rebuttal, Neirah slowly climbed to her feet and moved throughout the room. "Kusanagi-san, is it okay if I get changed upstairs? I don't want to wear my uniform on the train."

"Go right ahead," he calmly murmured. "Use the shower too, if you'd like. It's probably best if you don't show up after two years smellin' like a boy's high school locker room."

"Not funny," she gently retorted. "But thank you."

"The hell?" Misaki growled. "You sayin' we stink or somethin'?"

After watching Neirah depart and then spending some time considering the sight of the room void of her presence, Izumo carefully adjusted his demeanour in the address of his rowdy subordinate. "Yata." Misaki flinched to the hard tone of Izumo's voice when it elevated once Neirah vacated their midst. "I want you to stay out of this."

Recoiling with anger, Misaki took a determined step towards his superior to challenge the order. "And why should I!? You weren't there, Kusanagi-san! He was yellin' at her and everything!"

"Look," Izumo humbled. "I know you're concerned, and there's not a damn thing wrong with that. But this is somethin' Neirah's gotta do for herself."

Misaki's shaking fist dropped along with his expression. "W-what do you mean? What's that got to do with Okazaki?" He turned over his shoulder to oversee where Rikio's appearance had remained tense, but otherwise, patient. "Tell him, Rikio," he meekly suggested. "That bastard, he was-" Suddenly, Misaki's chest began to ache for the betrayal when he realized that Rikio wasn't going to back him up. "What the hell's wrong with you? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Rikio's voice was low when he spoke, enough that Misaki could sense traces of impatient aggression on his words. "Because you don't know Neirah."

Misaki stumbled, his frantic gaze darting between companions. "W-wait, why not? You were- I mean, you were there to help too, right?"

With an exhausted sigh, Izumo held out his hand and offered Misaki a seat. "Take a seat, Yata-chan. There's something you have to understand before you go and become a lion's main dish." He waited until Misaki obeyed the invitation, trying not to involve any of their other longer-standing members in the conversation. "It's pretty obvious that Neirah hasn't been herself for the last little while, isn't it?"

Misaki fidgeted uncertainly like a child scolded for drawing on the walls. "Well, yeah, obviously."

"Do you remember your birthday last year? When I told you the story about her past?" Izumo's expression dropped solemnly to recall the memories. "Totsuka wasn't lying when he said she wouldn't even shake my hand the day we met. That girl was so afraid that everything she touched would just drop dead that she actually threw herself in front of a bullet to protect our king."

Misaki's breathing hitched, and hazel eyes widened with bemusement. "S-she did?"

"She learned that night that we weren't going to go down so easily. Ever since then, she's made HOMRA her entire world with Totsuka at its centre, the one who showed her that she had a place to belong." Izumo turned to face the seating of the bar, remembering how it felt to watch her pace around the floor, knowing that she had nowhere else to turn. "Her friends, her family, everyone she knew had it rough, and she put all that blame on herself. Can you imagine what that would have been like for a young kid like that?"

Misaki bowed his head, hunching over his seat with a guilty expression on his face. "Do you… Do you think she was actually cursed?"

"Not even a little bit," Izumo quietly reassured. "But to her, it felt too real. So, when she found out that there were people out there strong enough to fight through the tough times, she latched on to it."

Izumo dropped his head and watched the warm water from the tap run over his hands with the suds he'd applied. "Now, she remembers that there's more to life than HOMRA. She still has a family somewhere, and Okazaki too. She knows that she has to overcome that fear, but for whatever reason, she doesn't seem to want the rest of us to get involved." He turned off the tap and grabbed a dry rag to dab the excess from his knuckles. "Okazaki's not a bad kid, but she's right. He gets into somethin' and won't take no for an answer. If he keeps it up, it'll be his own damn fault for pushing her away. It'd do you well to learn from his mistakes."

Letting his fleeting gaze scan the floor, Misaki eventually allowed his sheepish eyes to meet with the sight of Rikio's clenched fist balled in the centre of his table. Despite his anger with Gin's interference, Rikio had remained calm when all he wanted to do was protect. Yō had done the same the night that Neirah had spontaneously decided that smoking was harmful. Both of them understood her more than he felt he ever could, and that disheartened him.

"We all see it," Izumo kindly reassured. "But for Neirah's sake, let's just pretend like we can't, at least, until she gets this sorted out. Do you think you can do that for her?"

The more Misaki thought about it, the more he felt foolish. If he considered Izumo's words, he even recalled times where Saburōta and Masaomi ignored the signs, too, excusing her heartache to keep her from feeling vulnerable. And Anna might have been the most significant proof that Neirah didn't want anyone to worry. Even with the Strain's abilities connecting her closely with her big sister, the child never said a peep.

"Don't worry," Izumo added tenderly. "If she needs us, she'll ask. Until then, let her fight fate in the way that she sees fit."

Misaki quietly raised his gaze and locked it sheepishly with the barkeep. "S-should I… apologize?"

While letting a gentle laugh slip past his lips with a meandering plume of cigarette smoke, Izumo's expression brightened. "For what, caring?" he teased. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Remember what happened last time you overthought things?" He laughed to mock the sound of Misaki's humiliated hiss. "Yeah, Neirah knows you're a hot-head, and she knows you worry. She's not going to hold it against you."

With a defeated groan, Misaki folded his arms on the top of the bar and buried his face in them. "Why are women so damn complicated…?"

But maybe he was still the one overcomplicating things. Perhaps he was looking too deep and seeing things that Neirah didn't want him to see. Sure, everyone knew that she was upset. That really was obvious. But even if they were restricting the need to help because they cared, there had to be a limit. How many tears could they watch her retain before they reached for her? How many screams did she have to lock in her chest before they begged her to hear them? That's why he hated her eyes and the way they spoke to him. He knew that one day, she'd look back at him, and he wouldn't be able to stay away. It wasn't in his nature to abandon a friend in need, no matter how complicated the circumstance, but he would try, for now.

For her sake.

* * *

As Neirah stood in the yard of her aunt's humble home, she raised her fingers to her collar to tug at it. She wasn't used to having the cotton of a knit sweater so high on her throat and concealing her only source of comfort. She said a silent curse to Tatara's name for convincing her to accept her relative's invitation, but she couldn't regret standing there. Laid out before her in the form of a cracked concrete walkway was her first step.

After Mikoto had answered her father's call earlier that month, Hisashi's sister was eager to investigate on his behalf. In her defence, it had been two years since Neirah came home, and she left without much in the way of notice. The occasional phone call was all her relatives had to assure them that she was still alive, and she could admit, that wasn't fair.

With her heart in her throat, she approached the door, her body spastic with tremors that she tried desperately to stifle. Once she was within knocking distance, she raised her knuckles and paused. She had to be careful in alerting the woman to her presence to avoid contact. She couldn't let her curse take root in another world for a second time, not after she'd worked so hard to pull the weeds. Instead, she lowered her hand to the knob and gave it a slow twist, relieved that it unlatched.

Without announcing her presence with a knock, she slowly opened the door, stepping inside with a racing heart and delighting in the realization that her aunt wasn't overly near. Acting as soundlessly as she could, she shut the door at her back and removed her boots. By that time, her concerned guardian noticed her in the hallway, stacking her shoes on the organizer.

Neirah winced to the sound of a ceramic dish shattering, scattering tea cakes on the floor when her aunt turned to glimpse her presence entering. Watching the emotion flood Himari's eyes caused Neirah's body to tighten immediately.

"N-Neirah," she gasped through an instant well of tears. "Y-you're here. Y-you- Oh, my Neirah!"

Neirah could feel the tension in the room grow as she fluidly dodged the open arms moving to fold around her, but she couldn't be any kinder in her rejection. "Please, Himari-san, don't touch me."

Himari slowly turned with the heartbreak visible in her teary kohl eyes as she staggered in the hallway with empty arms. She couldn't help but take responsibility for Neirah's disappearance two years prior, and seeing the cautious girl's reaction to her relief only cemented that speculation. "Was it something I did?" she whispered despondently. "Neirah, please, if I did something wrong-"

"No," Neirah rushed out curtly. It was hard for her to remain kind when everyone that day seemed to blame themselves. She knew that she remained the culprit all along. "No, please. It's not like that." She lowered her voice to a dull whisper, trying her best to provide an explanation worth denying her flesh and blood. "Please… Everyone who touches me only meets with hardship." She lowered her gaze, and her insides knotted as she reached for her HOMRA mark beneath her shirt like touching it would see her king's hand in hers. She needed his strength to face such a monumental challenge alone. "You've been doing so much better since I left."

Himari's face flushed with humiliation, but she couldn't deny that she was never fit to provide for the child adequately. "Neirah… Please, baby, that's not your fault."

"And father," she instigated weakly. "He's finally sober enough to call. Even if he's… if he's sick." Her fleeting gaze wandered the hall and took notice of how very little had changed since she'd left. "I can't imagine that it would have been possible if I was still there to remind him that she's gone."

"Honey, I-" Himari slowly retracted her fingertips when she realized that Neirah was undoubtedly not going to let her touch.

"I'm sorry," Neriah whispered timidly. "But if you can't respect this, I can't stay. It took all the courage I had just to come back to this place." Feeling a little braver, she raised her eyes to meet Himari's with a kind smile. "This isn't where I belong anymore."

The length of time they spent standing off silently in the front door caused both of them to ache, but neither of them knew how to advance. The thought crossed Neirah's mind a couple of times about running, but she remained fixed. _It's okay_, she thought. _Everything will work out. You'll see…_ The stress she was causing her comrades was inexcusable, and the quicker she found a solution, the faster they could return to laughing again.

"I-I regretted… to hear about my father's condition. I… wasn't sure if I conveyed that properly when we were on the phone. My roommate was being… sort of noisy." Neirah's lips began to tremble as she fought to relax her quaking muscles in the presence of a family member like Himari was a stranger. "I'm not avoiding his calls because I don't care… I just…"

"Neirah," Himari murmured mildly. "Where do you live now? Who was that man who answered your phone that night?" Maternal concern found the woman's round face as she watched Neirah close her eyes like she'd already expected the interrogation to follow. "You aren't… in some kind of trouble, are you?"

"You sound just like him," she whispered miserably under her breath. Neirah shook her head, more fiercely by the passing second. "No, absolutely not," she whispered. "I've never felt safer. As it stands, I can't explain it very well, but I hope you'll trust that your niece is smarter than to see herself in a bad situation." She immediately felt the guilt of speaking such a fictional statement, even knowing that two years ago, she had done just that. If it weren't for her king, she might have lost her life, or worse, faced relocating in possession of a strange man at the hands of the Yakuza like Himari seemed to suggest. "I have amazing friends," she continued tenderly. "Who care about me very much."

"Your family cares about you very much!" Himari denied in an elevated tone. "Neirah, you vanished for two years, and rarely call! Do you have any idea how that made us feel?!"

She could hear the thick links of chain rattling outside of Himari's comprehension, but she didn't fight back. She wouldn't be chained again. "Lecturing me for doing what I thought was right isn't going to make me want to come back." Neirah lowered her gaze and watched Himari's tears hit the ground to the sound of her sniffling. "This isn't how I expected everything to turn out, but I meant it when I said that this is no longer home."

"You're seventeen," Himari mewled with disdain. "Where do you live? How do you keep food on your table? Are you still going to school?"

"I work," she gently assured her. "And I still go to school too. I'm actually doing… really well." Without a whimper, Neirah felt her tears start to roll softly over her cheeks past the ink she didn't have the last time she saw her aunt. "I'll be in my final year soon, and I'll be deciding what I want to do after that. I'm pretty good at fixing things, and my language skills are at the top of my class. I have… an excellent teacher." She began to choke on her words as her jaw locked with the need to break down entirely.

"I-I've been working… really hard so that I can go to a good university. I have money saved and everything. And m-my friends… they support me too. They help me study and take care of me when I'm sick. They make me feel like everything is going to work out."

"Neirah." Himari whimpered frailly from the same distance she'd been since the girl's arrival. "Who was that man who answered your phone that night when your father called?"

Tears rolled thick over Neirah's cheeks, the heat far from comforting as she ground her teeth and sealed her eyes tightly over the extreme resistance. "He is… my king." Maybe she couldn't go into details, but no matter what, nothing would change how she felt about Suoh Mikoto. "He's the reason I'm safe, the reason I'm happy. He protects me, and makes sure that I have everything I need to succeed." She shook her head repeatedly, letting her tears rain from her cheeks as her tone accelerated. "It's because of him that I'm here, facing you now after all this time. I would have been fine ignoring father's calls forever, but that night, when King-sama answered the phone, he let you in."

She wrapped her arms around her belly and tried to keep from keeling over entirely. "He let in… another world… that I was trying so hard to lock away. T-that's why I'm here."

Himari trembled just as fiercely, trying to keep an open mind with the rattled youth. Himari knew that Neirah was a smart young lady, and she knew that the child wouldn't lie about something so detrimental. She trusted her niece, but even more, she believed in the mature young woman bravely returning to face something that terrified her. Respecting Neirah's courage, she slowly took a step away and held her arm out in invitation. "P-please," she whispered. "Come sit and have some tea."

Neirah's breathing was shuddering as she opened her sad eyes and looked at the woman like a timid stray, but when Himari offered her a kind, welcoming smile, she reciprocated. "Thank you," she whispered in a mousy tone.

"No, baby, thank _you_…"

It didn't take long for the water to boil, and luckily, after the ice chipped, boundaries set, the awkward silences dwindled. Instead of the cakes that Himari was carrying, currently spoiled on the floor, they had set out some crackers to dip in their tea. Neither of them was in a munching mood, though. There was too much that needed to be said to divert their attention to anything as menial as chewing.

"I think about you often." Himari watched miserably as the tea in her ceramic pot filled her niece's cup. It brought back memories of the time they were together and would share a pot of sencha tea every Sunday. The young woman across from her had changed since then. For starters, she had never seen the girl cry before. A part of her wondered if that wasn't because Neirah knew that Himari's situation was delicate enough without sharing her pain. There was also a light in her eyes that she hadn't noticed being there before, a subtle spark of vibrant life appearing almost reassuring.

Himari set her kyusu down with a heavy sigh. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Shizume is becoming quite dangerous. There are all sorts of gangs causing a ruckus in the streets at all hours. Do those delinquents have nothing better to do with their lives than commit arson?"

Neirah choked on the green tea she was sipping, writing off the snort by waving her hand in front of her face like she'd burnt herself. "Hot," she coughed ruefully. Once she cleared the fluid from her lungs, she calmed her ruckus and responded. "But honestly, Mari-san. You don't have to worry about those kinds of things interfering with my life. I'm um… careful. And my roommate walks with me all the time, so I'm never alone. We work together, too." She was becoming fond of half-truths.

There was an incriminating gleam in Himari's dark eyes as she carefully observed the flustered teen. "So, this 'king' you speak about so fondly. He is your employer?"

Neirah diverted her sheepish gaze and returned to innocently sipping her tea. "More or less…"

"And what is it you do for him?"

"I… run errands… more or less." She hesitated for a moment and met her aunt's eyes from behind her cup before diverting her sheepish attention. "It's… all I can manage around school."

Himari groaned dimly and watched Neirah deliberate from behind the fine porcelain containing her favourite green tea. "Well, I suppose, as long as he's watching over you, I won't pry," she surrendered. "He's kept you safe this long, so I shouldn't be complaining."

With a tender smile, Neirah slowly returned her cup to its corresponding saucer in the bright room. It was the loveliest room in the house, as far as Neirah was concerned. Himari didn't have a fancy home, by any means, but it was welcoming. "It's true, he does protect me," she murmured fondly. "And someday, I hope to return the favour." As her expression dampened with worry, her eyes slid away from their conversation. Instead, she watched as the sun warmed the small yard on the other side of the large window. "That's why I'm here. When my head fills with personal thoughts, my productivity at work suffers. I need my mind to be sharp if I'm going to be of any use to him."

Noticing that she was losing a bit of focus in concealing her actual occupation, Neirah quickly snapped to attention with a gentle gasp. "And to look after myself, of course. I can't eat or sleep properly with all these thoughts running through my head, and I should probably be on the lookout for those… _arsonists_ that are popping up all over the place."

Himari carefully observed her niece from behind the cup she clutched in both sets of fingers. "You're worried about Hisashi?"

Diverting her gaze sheepishly, Neirah began to fidget. "Yes," she whispered. "Even if he's been absent in my life for over a decade, he's still my father. It would be despicable of me not to care."

"I know you feel responsible for your momma's death, but you have to let that go-"

"I know." Even Neirah was surprised by how swiftly she'd interrupted her aunt's kind words. Realizing how curt it sounded, she reiterated her sentiment more amicably. "I know… That's why… I've made up my mind." She bravely raised her eyes to meet her aunt's and filled her lungs with the crisp January air. "I'm going to go visit my father over the summer break."

Himari looked astonished to hear the words come out of Neirah's mouth, and it was noticeable on her expression. "Y-you are? But honey, your father lives in Nagasaki now. How on earth are you-"

Neirah slowly nodded. "I told you I saved up some money for school, right?" She didn't stammer as she divulged in her intensions. "Well, this is important to me, too. As important to me as my future." Why? Because she had a family that she had to protect, a king she needed to serve, and for all they'd done for her, they deserved her at her best. Nothing was more important than that. "I figure I'll spend about a month there if he allows it." Her brow furrowed with turmoil as she wrung her forearms and begged a sense of security to return. "That is… if he…"

After catching sight of the tears falling from her eyes, Himari's sniffle redirected Neirah's attention, and when their eyes met, Himari's flushed face was dropping into her hands. "You've grown so much, and I missed it," she whined. "Hisashi would be so proud of his baby girl." With eyes drowned in sorrow, Himari raised her face with a miserable attempt at a smile. "I know you don't like people touching you, but I want you to know that my heart wants to hug you."

"Mari-san…"

Himari climbed to her feet, rushing across the floor towards the table where her purse sat. "Please, at least let me help you pay your way." She unfolded her wallet, realizing that there was an insufficient amount of cash between the leather folds. Flushed with embarrassment, she quickly pulled out a cheque book and pen. "Well, a cheque will do. Do you have somewhere to cash it?"

Neirah reached out to her aunt's trembling hand like she wanted to stop her from writing, but when she realized that she almost went against her code, she quietly retracted the touch. With the heartbroken diversion of troubled eyes, she let her aunt continue to scribe. "A cheque… would be fine…"

After thanking Himari for the tea, and for the funds required to purchase a return ticket between Tokyo and Nagasaki, Neirah excused herself into the front yard of her relative's modest home. When she slowly closed the door behind her, her eyes fell on the sight of the degrading handwriting. It was apparent that the pain of not being able to see her brother in his weakened state was affecting Himari, and Neirah couldn't help but wonder when the vicious cycle would end.

She took a couple of steps away to approach the sidewalk, continuing to stare down at the piece of paper that she knew promised a higher value than it could accommodate. When Himari had flipped through the carbon copies to locate a fresh cheque, Neirah had noticed a vast number of the receipts addressed to the specialist that she could only assume kept her father comfortable in his final days. She could feel the determination brewing deep within her, and tightening her grip on the sight she'd narrowed her disappointed gaze on, she watched with a nervous heart as the paper combusted. When the flames were fed and began to fade, not even ashes remained. She calmly rubbed her empty fingers together before turning and heading back towards the station, preparing to countdown the days that she waited to face her most difficult challenge yet.

Destroying the barrier between worlds.


	22. Kimono

**Kimono**

* * *

It wasn't common for a member of HOMRA to be sitting quietly at a booth in Izumo's bar and minding their business, especially when there were traces of commotion across the room worthy of Izumo raising his voice. That was probably why when Neirah discreetly slid into the seat beside Masaomi, he attempted to ignore her presence entirely. It wasn't necessarily that he thought he was in bad company, but she was an omen. He couldn't help feeling that as soon as he acknowledged her, the turmoil would find its way to his side of the bar. Somehow, Neirah always wound up being the centre of the chaos.

After receiving a playful nudge against his shoulder, Masaomi ground his teeth with a nervous hiss and diverted his gaze, hoping that if he ignored her, she would go away. She didn't, but she also didn't pressure a response. It was the equivalent to a cat nuzzling your hand for pets, which worried him that if he didn't oblige her, she'd turn feral. Unfortunately, his guilt got the better of him, so with a small voice, he inconspicuously spoke in the opposite direction of her visitation. "Not now, Nē-chan."

Neirah's gaze slipped over the busy floor to where Misaki was hanging off Rikio and focused entirely on destroying their everlasting friendship with violent insults. "You should know better," she responded just as soft-spoken. "Ignoring them will only make it worse."

Masaomi groaned docilely to consider the unfortunate truth in her words. "Instigating doesn't make it any better."

"I can tell that you're avoiding getting involved."

An impatiently dull growl later, he turned to peek at the disorder across the room, but it was also apparent that Neirah was attempting to be equally as unobtrusive. "If it's that obvious, then I guess I'm not doing a very good job."

A slighted grin softened Neirah's expression as she returned her attention towards her seatmate. She tilted her bright eyes towards his indecision and, instead, offered him a kind alternative. She knew the clamour exhausted her friend. "That's why I've come to you with an escape plan."

Screwing up his face beneath his hat, Masaomi met her sincerity. Considering how gloomy she'd been since Mikoto had forced her to confront her terminal father a month prior, he could appreciate the smile she feigned for him. However, that didn't make him any less suspicious of her intentions. "For both of us?"

"If you're feeling up to it." She turned to peek the uproar that continued to escalate until Izumo was separating Misaki from Rikio, or maybe prying was a more accurate depiction, and half of her wondered if he wasn't going to toss them out entirely. The bar was always lively on a Friday afternoon. It was one of the few times that everyone seemed to come together all at once. As happy as that made her most days, things tended to get a little out of control when that happened. "Now's our chance," she whispered in a sneaky tenor. "Is it a date?"

Masaomi peered at the dynamics of their clansmen tussling, losing sight of his typical mate in the mayhem. He didn't have any alternate arrangements pending, but he also didn't think it was right to leave without telling anyone where they would be. Once he diverted his eyes, he pulled out his PDA and began to script a message to Yō. "You still haven't told me where it is that we're going," he instigated. "Can I at least get that much before I decide to play along?"

If she had been in a better mood, she might have taken the opportunity to further harass her friend for questioning her honesty. Unfortunately, her spirits seemed to stay dampened by circumstance. "Have I ever led you astray before?"

Masaomi didn't return his gaze to hers from letting it linger on his pending transmission. "You can be devious when you want to be. It makes me nervous, is all."

"Fair." Neirah returned her fond expression towards her colleague without an ounce of hesitation in her divulgence. "I'd like to take you shopping."

Once he'd sent his message to the clamouring Yō, Masaomi startled, his perplexed gaze flashing intrigue when he lowered his dark espresso eyes to meet Neirah's. She didn't seem to acknowledge that the suggestion uttered estranged coming from someone like her, but he couldn't help doing a doubletake. "Shopping? Me?"

"You sound surprised," she nearly whispered. "You had to fight strange men off your sister when you helped her to accessorize."

He grumbled petulantly. "Don't remind me."

"I would like to employ your services too." She reached out and laid her hand on his arm, tugging as playfully as she could muster on his leather. "Deny it all you want, but all the signs point to you having an uncanny sense for women's fashion. And I-" She blushed and lowered her teasing touch. "I'd like you to help make me pretty."

Masaomi's eyes slowly slipped into his peripherals, where he watched Neirah fidget, her light spirits fading. She was nervous, and that was a rare sight to see out of their hunter. Masaomi had always appreciated her femininity, so he wasn't entirely sure where her self-consciousness was stemming from, but he understood the pain he watched steal her radiant smile.

She added her final touch with a mild grin. "I'll buy you coffee."

So, he smiled back. "Yeah… Okay, sure."

Taking notice that Neirah and Masaomi began prowling around the border of the active establishment, Izumo tapered his distracted gaze incredulously. "And just where is it you two are sneaking off to?"

The pair froze like they thought the settling uproar wouldn't notice their schemes if they remained still. When the silence replaced the cover that Neirah anticipated to distract their company from their disappearance, she sighed her surrender and admitted to her thwarted plans. "Dewa-kun and I are heading out for the afternoon if that's alright."

Izumo cocked a brow inquisitively. "Well, sure, I guess. But what for?"

A defiant Neirah's face knotted with embarrassment as she jerked her attention towards the door. All she wanted to do was latch on to her friend's wrist and drag him from their midst like it was a kidnapping. The disappointing reality was that they might've found that a more believable tale. "So nosy."

Yō snapped to attention with a look of betrayal on his face as he suspiciously eyed the pair. "And since when do you and Dewa sneak out without telling me?"

Thinly veiling his bitter snarl, Masaomi partially rolled his eyes to dismiss his friend's accusation. "Check your phone."

Doing as commanded beneath the scrutiny of their friends, and after a brief moment of silence, Yō's response was uttering dryly. _Huh..._

"Yeah."

Upon closing her eyes, Neirah dropped her head and heaved a troubled sigh. "There goes our tactical retreat. Sorry, Dewa-kun."

"And what makes you think you need to be sneaky about it?" Izumo pestered. "Kind of suspicious, if you ask me."

"Onii-san, I'm not in the mood for your outlandish theories," she nearly growled.

"I don't care if you are or not," he reasoned. "Now, I'm curious."

From where he lingered nearby the heart of the settling uproar, Tatara laid his chin in his hand and pondered the situation carefully. "I don't know if I ever considered Dewa-kun-" He yelped when Izumo dropped his fist down on the centre of the man's crown without shifting his attention from Neirah. "Ow, Kusanagi-san, that hurt!"

"Speaking of _outlandish theories_."

With a defeated moan, Neirah pulled out a chair near to the table she'd been passing and dropped into it, folding one leg over the other. "Seeing as I can't do anything without _absolutely everyone_ knowing, I'm taking Dewa-kun shopping."

As Tatara startled to attention from where he clutched his aching cranium, the enquiry in Izumo's face didn't fade to her dissatisfying rebuttal. "Shopping? Why?"

Her brow twitched with irritation. "Because I need new clothes."

Izumo didn't seem convinced. "What's wrong with your clothes now? I mean, other than their provocative nature."

Neirah unwound her folded leg, slamming both boot heels onto the floor with an impatient thunder. "I don't want to hear that from somebody hung up over a woman who seems to have it out for pants!"

"Keep your voice down in the bar, young lady." Izumo's command was casual, and didn't display near the guilt she hoped she could use to shame him in front of their peers. "I know you're goin' through a rough time, but don't even think about takin' it out on the rest of us."

"Maybe Dewa-kun, and I will pick out a nice microskirt and see how you like that!"

Yō slunk up beside his exhausted companion just as Masaomi's posture slackened with defeat. "Traitor." He waited until Masaomi decided to connect their gazes, and when he did, Yō crammed as much venom into his tone as he could muster. "I'll forgive you if you do the microskirt thing, though."

Misaki watched the banter continue between his seniors with a deep furrow in his brow. "Wow. You know Tsukiyo must be pretty upset when she wants to do something girly like _clothes shopping_."

"From what I hear, you like it when she does girly things," Saruhiko mocked from nearby. "Maybe you should go with her instead."

"Cut it out, Monkey!" Misaki barked irately with a livid flush in his cheeks. "I'm not gonna sit here and take that from the guy who rubs her feet!"

_Tsk…_

Tatara's expression was sheepish as he raised his hand and kneaded the air like he was spiritually trying to turn the volume down amongst them. "Okay, everyone. Let's all calm down."

"Yeah… that's not going to help," Mikoto rumbled evenly from his perch.

"King, you're not exactly helping either…"

"Alright," Izumo curtly drawled. "Let's pretend for a minute that you _are_ taking Dewa clothes shopping. Why?"

"I already told you-"

"There's nothing wrong with your clothes," he challenged. "Besides, I see you wearing more of Kamamoto's wardrobe than your own these days. And I know for a fact that you don't even wear half of what you have."

A guilty look immediately twisted Tatara's expression nearby. "I promise that it has nothing to do with me."

"Blabbermouth," Neirah hissed.

A low, rumbling laugh cut over their banter from where Rikio had settled next to Misaki, and it was clear that he didn't seem interested in fessing up to his guilt in the matter. "I think that's the closest I've ever heard Neirah come to cursing. Well, except for that one time that she called me a baka, but it was super cute, so it doesn't count."

Misaki growled and beat his friend over the head with an impatient snort. "That's because you are one, moron. And don't think this's over!"

"Ow! Yata-san, take it easy, will ya?"

"Okay." Neirah's impatient sneer cut over the ruckus as she pushed out her chair and climbed to her feet. She wanted to be angrier with them during her address, but she lost her composure halfway through her explanation. "It's because I want to have some nice clothes for when I… when I go to Nagasaki to visit my father."

Neirah hated how the room humbled around her, the once piqued expressions of her friends growing sombre with concern. They always did that when she was facing some form of turmoil, and it disgusted her. It had to stop. As such, she immediately lowered her eyes and watched their shadows shift against the floor. "It's been… ten years since I've seen him. And if this is the last time that he lays eyes on me, I want him to be proud of his daughter."

Sounding a humiliated snort, she reached towards her thigh and teased the tassels fringing the slits in her denim that she'd picked up from various battles past. "It wouldn't hurt for me to pack a sundress or…" She raised her fingers and took hold of her coat collar, gently folding it over her HOMRA brand. "A high-neck sweater."

"Hey," Misaki instigated tenderly. "You're not sayin' that you're embarrassed about HOMRA, are ya, Tsukiyo?" Surely, he had heard things. Not HOMRA's hunter. There was no way that she could ever feel anything but pride in her association with them. He wouldn't believe anything less.

Neirah sealed her eyes too tightly, the pressure causing her face to twinge. "Of course not. But if I don't have enough time to explain-"

"No." Izumo's interruption silenced them both, but his careful smile flashed reassurance before he continued. "I think that's a great idea. If this is the last time Tsukiyo Hisashi is going to see his daughter, I think it's appropriate to want to show him the beautiful and mature woman she's become to put his mind at ease."

Even as Misaki watched Neirah's expression warm with a gentle smile, his demeanour still dropped with disdain. With a bitter snort, he diverted his gaze like he'd taken insult to Izumo's suggestion, and his words muttered grimly under his breath. "I think she's fine the way she is."

It was the reason that Neirah originally wanted to take Masaomi with her. He was mature enough to give her his honest and unbiased opinion on the outfits she would undoubtedly sample before purchasing. His mild personality wouldn't pry too deeply into the situation that he was sure to notice caused her pain. She expected the two could have a relatively peaceful afternoon, but all that changed when their duet became a crowded sextet.

As such, the six red clansmen made their way to Neirah's choice destination, which also happened to be one of the largest malls in Shizume City just across from the station. Ten floors focused on shopping stretched high into the late afternoon sky and promised that the young woman, surrounded by her loyal escorts, would find something appropriate to take with her to Nagasaki.

From where she watched a shifting digital ring flash with adverts around the top floor of the building, Neirah's eyes dropped beneath amber shades. Her hands were resting just below her bust in her cropped-jacket pockets, and she had to remind herself that even if she was wearing sunglasses, they did nothing to conceal her impatient scowl. It was an expression that seemed to display naturally over the past year, causing nosy murmurs to spread doubtful whispers to their company as they hurried past the unspoken threat.

Neirah was a terror in Shizume City that caused people like Himari to lock their doors at night. She was HOMRA's fierce hunter. But to a father who hadn't seen her since her youth, she was still his little girl. It wasn't that she tried to be abrasive by trait, but it was hard to welcome people into her life when she knew that anyone outside of her red family would fade back out with another piece of her heart.

She looked over her right shoulder, watching Misaki and Saruhiko scan the crowds around them. Saruhiko seemed unimpressed, and Misaki looked utterly mortified to observe so many giggling young ladies clamouring over their racy purchases. To her right, Masaomi was capturing the cigarette from Yō's teeth before his friend could light it, shaking his head with a disbelieving frown. Then, from behind her, Neirah felt Rikio's palm drop onto her shoulder, causing her to tilt her head straight back and connect their gazes.

His crooked smile managed to encourage a warm grin to soften her hard expression before she straightened and approached the building. Maybe they wouldn't all be as discreet as Masaomi would have, but she couldn't deny that the familiarity was welcome. Even if all she wanted to do was mope, she could appreciate that their support wanted something more for her.

Once they stepped inside the facility, Misaki's eyes lit up with boyish excitement. "Oi, Saruhiko! Let's hit the game centre!" He grabbed Saruhiko's attention and pointed towards one side of the bustling mall with a bright smile. "I hear the one in this place is _huge_!"

Saruhiko seemed indifferent.

"I bet they have an awesome food court, too!" Rikio eagerly theorized. "If any of you need me, you know where I'll be!"

"Right," Masaomi casually agreed. "So, Nē-chan, did you have any place in particular on your mind to visit?"

"What is _wrong_ with you guys?!"

Misaki and Saruhiko stopped in their tracks before turning to face where Yō had interrupted their retreat. _Hehn?_ Misaki looked towards a staggered Rikio and then back to where the rest of their party scanned Yō expectantly. "What d' ya mean?"

Yō seemed frustrated to have to spell out his concerns so bluntly. "We came here for Ne-chan. She asked us for our help. Remember? Are you really just gonna walk away from a lady in need?" His tone escalated with impatient frenzy. "Am I the only gentleman left in this world?!"

It was evident by the void expression on Masaomi's face that he was resisting the need to stomp his pal down a couple of notches. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that. For Nē-chan's sake."

"Actually, I asked Dewa-kun for help," Neirah calmly reminded. "The rest of you just showed up, so whatever you want to do with your time is fine by me."

"Yeah!" Misaki defended. "Besides, I don't wanna get dragged around to a buncha chick stores! They're probably gonna be full of chicks!"

"Imagine that," Saruhiko ridiculed dryly. "It's almost like that was the intent."

"You shut your mouth!"

With a faint groan, Rikio laid his palm on his belly to give it an apologetic rub. "Awh, I guess you're right," he reluctantly agreed. "Okay, I'll stay. But we're still gonna do lunch, right?"

Neirah offered him a knowing smile. "Of course," she reassured upon turning her index finger towards the ceiling. "They have a lounge on the top floor with a great view of the shopping district. We can stop there when we're done. How about that?"

A dull groan rattled from within Misaki's slouching frame as his bashful expression scoured the halls. "Do I have to?"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko stepped away from his bellyaching companion with a dull murmur. "That's what you get for being buddy-buddy with everyone you meet. If you didn't want to get stuck tagging along with Tsukiyo, then why did you even come?"

Misaki immediately leapt on the defensive with a wryly cocked brow. "Because I heard they had a wicked game centre here. I thought I just said that."

As he trailed after their hunter, Saruhiko waved dismissively in the direction Misaki wanted to run. "Then go. No body's forcing you to do anything."

Alarm welled within Misaki's chest to think that Saruhiko was deciding to stay near the group instead of joining him at the arcade, and he quickly chased after his defiant companion. "Wait a sec! Why are you following them, Saruhiko? That's the last thing I'd expect from you."

Saruhiko didn't drop his gaze from where it scanned the busy aisles around them. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Misaki," he casually declared through his disgruntled sigh. But that wasn't true. Before they'd left HOMRA, Izumo had pulled Saruhiko aside to assign him an important task. Although disinclined to accept, he couldn't help but feel that a part of Izumo's concern might be justified.

Neirah had become intolerably sporadic as the days ticked past. Between her nerves and the regret mingling with her frustrations, she was almost as irrational as Misaki was when it came to combat. Luckily, it seemed like she genuinely had intentions of shopping that day after all, which meant that she probably hadn't heard the reports about unwarranted Strain activity in the area. But Saruhiko was convinced that wherever Neirah was, disaster followed. They could argue over whether it was a gift or a curse all they wanted, but to him, fact was fact, even if he hated feeling like an extension of Izumo's leash on the woman. '_What a pain_,' he mused resentfully.

With a desperate whimper, Misaki lunged after their gathering to catch up, trailing behind them next to Saruhiko for comfort's sake. Bustling shopping complexes weren't exactly his idea of a good time, especially when they were shopping for a woman. All he could think about as Neirah and Yō conversed up ahead, much to Masaomi's dismay, was the threat of finding themselves in some boutique specializing in extravagant lingerie. He thought his face was going to melt, so he raised his fingers to the lip of his knit toque and dragged it down over his face. "I hope Tsukiyo gets better soon…"

Misaki's hope wasn't far from becoming tangible that afternoon, because even if they had to work a little harder to see it, she still smiled. When Masaomi leaned over her shoulder to adjust the baseball cap on her head to a pink cowboy hat, she replaced it with a black fedora before tipping it over one sparkling eye and grinning. When Rikio tried to divert their attention towards a brightly coloured candy shop, and Misaki beat him over the back of his head for being unhelpful, she giggled. When Misaki grabbed her by her wrist and jerked her into a grunge store trying to sell her on a pair of oversized skate shoes to replace her heeled boots, she laughed.

There was an irritated grimace on her face matching Masaomi's the moment that Yō suggested they stop into a venue to accessorize their hunter one layer closer to her skin. But, as soon as Rikio dragged him away by his collar, she burst into hysterics. Maybe they had to work a little harder to see it, but they didn't mind. She didn't have to ask them for help for her spirits to lift just being near to her friends.

By the time the sun was beginning to set outside of the massive mall windows, Neirah couldn't take the soft grin from her face as she lapped at the ice cream Rikio convinced her she needed, despite Yō warning her it'd go straight to her hips. It was important to note the unconfrontational tone in his voice when he said that, though. It was less a warning and more of a promise.

When Neirah noticed that Rikio had finished his ahead of her, she turned her bright eyes towards his effort to carry her bags and offered him her dripping cone. After he gratefully tasted her robust green tea-flavoured dessert, she giggled and made her second attempt at finishing it off. Neirah ran through a mental checklist as she walked through the halls observing the stores they passed, making sure that she wasn't missing anything on her list.

She had ended up with a new coat, one that Izumo would be delighted to notice covered her midriff. In fact, it went all the way to her knees. Much to Misaki's dismay, she'd purchased a new pair of shoes too, but they had every bit of heel as her first. She stocked up on milk candies like they wouldn't exist once she left the city, and picked up some senbei and mochi snacks for the plane ride. Not to mention, she grabbed some strawberry cookie sticks to share with Saburōta when they invited him back to watch movies with them. She bought the fedora but wasn't sure if she'd ever actually wear it again. She supposed that part of her wanted to see Tatara wear it, more than anything, but since he'd stayed home, she had to improvise. She imagined he would look most handsome in it.

She'd picked up a cute knit sweater with a high neck, and a complimenting pair of leggings that Masaomi promised would look stunning with the boots she'd chosen. He wasn't wrong. With her hair combed and scowl replaced, she expected she would manage to make herself up into a daughter that any father would be proud of meeting. That was when her expression began to fade again. It was amusing. When Neirah considered how acceptant she'd been of herself and the person she'd become, she wondered why she suddenly felt the need to hide it.

Luckily, she had finished her cone treat because soon, Neirah startled when her nose met with the shiny ebony bead at the tip of a little stuffed lion's snout, and she couldn't contain her gasp. She stopped in her tracks and examined the tiny toy Yō had wiggled in her face before her hands were reaching out to hold its soft body between them. "Chitose, when did you get this?"

He snickered devilishly and folded his arms over his chest. "When you and Dewa were tryin' on hats." Snapping his arms by his front, he approached the stuffed lion and removed the bangle he wore to oppose hers. His smile was broad as he slipped the band around the lion's neck like a collar, delighting in the perfect fit. "He can wear yours while you're in the shower, or whatever," he teased. "It's just like a collar, see?"

Misaki was exhausted from wandering on his feet, so he'd flopped his skateboard down and started rolling about the multilevel complex. "You sayin' that stupid bracelet is like Tsukiyo's collar on you or somethin'?"

Defensively, Yō retracted the plush towards his chest and scornfully glowered at the youth. "Don't talk shit about things you don't understand."

The irritable vanguard shrugged indifferently. "What? It's just a stupid bracelet. If you ask me, I think it's lame. Friendship bracelets are for ten-year-old girls."

"Hey! You can't ride that thing in here! Cut that out!"

With a grim snort, Misaki whirled to face the order coming from the security guard nearby. "Fine, jeez. Sorry," he grumbled. He kicked up the front of his board with an obtrusive clack and slipped it under his arm before mumbling his rebellious retort. "Jackass… S' not my fault that you dropped out of police school and became a stupid mall cop."

Turning to face Yō, Neirah snagged the little lion back and removed his band before reapplying it where it belonged. With a soft flush in her cheeks, she met the creature's lifeless emerald gaze. "A lion, huh?"

He smirked. "A little one."

"It's perfect…" she whispered adoringly.

"Can we go now?" Misaki impatiently blared in a whiny tone. "My feet are killin' me, and I'm not even wearing stupid boots like Tsukiyo's."

Neirah smiled to herself and operated the lion's stuffed paws like they were arms. "I'd tell you to talk to Fushimi-san about that if I weren't so sure _I _would be putting his talents to good use when we make it back home."

_Tsk_.

"There he goes again. Complaining about walkin' around when he's the one who has the most energy out of all of us. Whose idea was it to bring the kids, anyway?" Yō chastised, clearly bitter for the interruption.

"Well," Masaomi instigated. "Fushimi came, and I guess Yata kind of followed suit."

Yō cocked a brow at the suggestion and grumbled his opinion. "That seems kind of backwards, doesn't it?"

Masaomi shrugged.

"For the record, I haven't complained yet," Saruhiko griped intolerantly. "And believe me. That took a lot on my part."

"I forgot you were here, honestly."

"Shut up."

"See? Even Saruhiko wants to leave," Misaki snorted. "Let's just grab takeout and go."

"But Yata-san," Rikio bleated. "Neirah's been tellin' me all the great things they've got upstairs. I was lookin' forward to it."

"Don't be an idiot. You know you'll eat anything that's dead," Misaki grumbled. "Let's blow this place already!"

"Quit acting like a little kid," Masaomi commanded. "Nē-chan didn't say she was done yet."

Rolling his eyes, Misaki threw his hands around his nape to support his weary head. "It's not like she's goin' away forever. What else could she possibly need?"

Masaomi rolled his eyes and dismissed Misaki's eager prattling. "Hell if I know. It'd probably be easier to ask her, wouldn't it?" Shaking his head, he turned to face Neirah with an apologetic smile. "Well, Nē-chan? Are we missing anything?"

Neirah concluded her mental checklist with a soft sigh. "I didn't find a sundress to take with me yet, or maybe a nice yukata. I don't have any that fit me properly anymore."

"Really? What's the matter? Are they too short?"

Yō dipped behind Neirah to match Masaomi's curious gaze before holding his palms up to his chest like they were grasping an imaginary weight.

_O-oh…_

Saruhiko groaned, watching as Neirah and Masaomi continued walking, listening to Rikio trying to calm down an irritated Misaki. But his focus was inconsistent as he peeked over his shoulder like the chaos ensuing amongst themselves wasn't the ominous presence lurking in the contemporary halls. So far, the Strain activity that Izumo cautioned him about hadn't managed to intrude on their afternoon, but he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

The group settled back into a pleasant conversation when their voices in Neirah's ears began to fade. When she turned her head to face the showcase window in front of one of the stores they passed, her lips parted, and breathing hesitated. She kept walking, but she wasn't very focussed on the ground beneath her as the crimson silk of a beautiful ceremonial kimono flowed over a mannequin on display. It had an elegant floral print on it that incorporated pale blues, pinks and ivory into the fabric, and for whatever reason, it seemed to mesmerize her.

She felt terrible when she startled Yō by encouraging him to hold her new pet while she advanced without another word, causing the boys at her reverse to cast questioning glances. After approaching the window, she stood and marvelled at the beautiful piece. She knew the store in front of her also retailed an array of trendy yukata as well. However, something about the work of art on the display model caused her cheeks to flood with a matching colour. It had kept her so captivated that she almost didn't notice Masaomi joining her.

"You know, when you said you wanted a nice sundress to wear out west, I didn't think you meant something like this."

Startling from her trance, Neirah dropped her gaze and immediately shook her head. "A-ah, no. I didn't," she clumsily reassured him. "I mean, that's the sort of kimono someone would get married in, not visit their sickly father. Besides, you know that Kusanagi-san isn't even going to let me date until I'm thirty."

A cheeky smile crept across Masaomi's features as he watched her fluster. "You want it, don't you?"

Neirah wriggled uncertainly, peeking to see if he'd looked away from her. When she comprehended that he hadn't, she dropped her eyes again. Masaomi had always been good at sniffing out dishonesty. "Well… maybe it wouldn't hurt to see if they have a size small enough for someone like me."

He chuckled. "That's better."

When Neirah shuffled around the window, her gaze remained locked with the beautiful model. She considered the colours, the details, and then, she worried that it wouldn't look as lovely on her. She wondered where her confidence had gone, raising her hands to rub her arms with a gentle moan. Suddenly, she felt girly and unsure why that was an alarming notion. A part of her suspected that there was an air of vulnerability showing a delicate heart to prying eyes, and something about that was terrifying. She had to remember that she was the hunter. She was the beast. She was-

-startled into staring wild-eyed at the sight of a youthful sales clerk aiding a customer nearby, and her body seized. All tenderness evacuated as her expression hardened with panic. To the vision of Gin drawing a notepad from his apron, taking measurements from what looked to be a bride-to-be, her fawn skin paled. Without a second thought about it, Neirah rushed away from the store, bolting back out the doors to where she was comfortable with her strengths.

Masaomi cast her an enquiring gaze upon her arrival as she murmured something about them not having her size, but before he could question her any further, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I'll be right back," she rushed.

Rikio's brow furrowed over his concerned expression as they watched her nervously hasten away. "Whoa, what happened?"

Masaomi shrugged. "No idea. That was weird even for her."

When Rikio turned to face the store where a delighted young woman was exiting next to what appeared to be her best friend, his teeth were grinding over his bitter growl. "You gotta be kidding me!"

At the moment Gin's smiling expression raised towards the doorway to wave after his clientele, he froze upon connecting gazes with Rikio, his waving arm stiffening in place. After a moment of comprehending the terror welling within him, Rikio stepped towards the store and caused Gin to drop his notebook before retreating. "No-! N-no no no no!"

He dove behind the service counter, laying his hands over his head in hopes that his co-workers didn't think he was insane for fleeing the sight of what they would presume was a customer. Unfortunately, they understood all too quickly when Rikio stormed into the store and reached over the counter to drag Gin out by his collar.

"K-Kamamoto-san! A-ah, what a s-surprise!"

"Oi! Is that the little shit who fucked with Tsukiyo the other day?!" Yō's livid suggestion caused Masaomi's venomous glare to taper.

Gin turned to face a pair of new faces preparing to tail Rikio into the store, and the colour drained from his face. "T-that doesn't happen to be Chitose-san, does it?"

"I think it's time for you to take a lunch break, Okazaki," Rikio ordered firmly.

His command caused Gin to shudder. "B-but I just got here."

Nearby, a young woman shrieked and held her hand over her face. "O-Okazaki-kun, what's happening?!"

"It's okay! I'm fine! It's fine!"

Gin's likeness to Tatara at that moment caused Rikio's teeth to grind. "Like hell it is!" he growled. "You got fifteen seconds to beat it before I beat you."

"B-but I'm working," Gin ambled worrisomely. "And how am I supposed to run away when you're holding me up by my shirt?"

Outside, the commotion was starting to alert mall security and anyone else who was passing by the reputable establishment. None of this seemed to bother the men hanging around the premises, but two sets of ears were particularly interested in the uproar to cause innocent civilians to flee the scene.

Nearby, a set of bright emerald eyes shifted over the mall passage with far more life than those of Neirah's stuffed lion, and his ginger mane hung at shoulder-length. Although far be it from a lion, the man wasn't intimidated by the uproar in the slightest, and even took it upon himself to approach. "Hidaka-san, I think something's going down over there," he muttered towards his partner. "Do you think-?"

The chocolate gaze of his cohort skimmed over the alarm in the crowd with great scrutiny before stepping towards his younger comrade's retreat. Without another word, the lively youth was bounding towards the clamour. "Dōmyōji?" It was clear that something was causing a disturbance around the corridor, so of course, as a recent recruit for the Tokyo Legal Affairs Bureau, Civil Registry Department, Annex 4, Andy would be eager to rush towards any sign of trouble.

Upon departure, Andy turned his focussed leer back over his shoulder with a sense of urgency and righteousness. Even if they were technically off-duty, members of SCEPTRE4 were always ready to help where they could. That was how Andy felt as he charged the scene with an effort that some would describe as reckless. "I think somebody's robbing that store!" he theorized. "It might be that Strain we were looking for!"

"Alright, Okazaki!" Rikio wound up his balled fist in preparation to strike the whimpering man in his grasp. Usually, he wouldn't be so quick to temper, but, in his opinion, Gin had it coming for a long time. "You asked for it!"

"Halt!"

_Huh?_ Rikio turned over his shoulder with a wry expression just as Gin peeked between his fingers to catch a glimpse at his guardian angels. When Rikio focussed on the pair of meddling civilians, his intensity only increased. "Who the hell are you?"

"This is none of your damn business, kid, so beat it," Masaomi snapped edgily towards the fiery youth. Even when a breathless brunette had joined Andy's side, HOMRA remained unconcerned with the disturbance.

"Yeah, and who even says something like that anymore?" Misaki mocked. He tipped his derisive smile around him to flash it to his friends, who all joined him in scorning the ambitious hero interrupting them. "Talk about lame." The fact that Misaki and Andy looked to be around the same age didn't help matters.

Akira watched Andy begin to shake with humiliated fury, his smile exhausted as he straightened next to his accomplice. "I don't think anyone's going to take you seriously dressed like that."

Andy turned to the side with a look of pouty rejection on his face, tempted to conceal it behind his baggy scarf. "But I practiced it so it'd sound wicked cool when I had to use it…"

After patting his downtrodden companion on the head, Akira returned his attention to their targets. "I recognize these guys," he murmured carefully. He lowered his hand against Andy's shoulder to warn him to exercise caution in approaching the situation. "I don't think they have anything to do with the Strain we were looking for. They're with HOMRA."

Andy seemed startled, and possibly a little hesitant after his comrade had divulged. He hadn't been with SCEPTRE4 long, but he knew everything there was to know about their current rivalry with the unruly Red Clan.

"Wait, just who are you, anyway?" Misaki growled. "Talkin' about Strains and how you know we're from HOMRA. Don't tell me…"

"You heard him," Masaomi shouted. "Who the hell do you think you are gettin' caught up in somethin' that doesn't concern you? If you knew who we were all along, you must have some kinda death wish."

"Y' know that shit's goin' down when you got Dewa all fired up, so what's the deal?" Yō drawled friskily. "You brats lookin' to start somethin' with us?"

_Tsk._ Saruhiko threw his head over his shoulder with an impatient growl. "Here we go…"

* * *

Neirah braced her weight against a partition near the elevator, her heart in her throat as she considered her overwhelming feelings. She hadn't expected Gin to be the one interrupting her somewhat pleasant afternoon. She hadn't talked to him since their falling out, and once she'd ignored his first few apologetic messages, he'd stopped sending them. She had been aware that he had a part-time job to attend after school, but she never cared to ask where it was for fear of involving herself too much in his life.

Appreciating that she was in an inconvenient space, startling many other people into apologizing when they rounded the corner, she shifted and began to return. As she passed the stores lining the halls, the occasional glass wall reflected her figure in the corner of her eye, calling to her for consideration. The truth was, in the fate she sought to make her own, she wouldn't always have to be so insensitive, tender-footing around her company. Maybe it was something to do with her age or maturity, but one day, when people looked at her, she wanted them to admire her, not fear her. She supposed desirability was probably every little girl's dream, but it was something she wasn't going to find if she couldn't unknot her face.

The thing that frightened Neirah most about these newly discovered feelings was that there might be a chance that opening up her wary heart for Gin's world might weaken her, to some degree. If that were the case, would she be able to remain the hunter that her clan had come to cherish? Would HOMRA still be her place to belong? The uncertainty weighing her heart caused her expression to turn sour again when she considered the thought that Gin might have been right. If she was encouraged to turn away from her life with her clan, would they still have time for her? Could they be friends even without sharing the purpose of their king?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the alarmed screams of a pair of ladies, and before she could question the disturbance, she watched the familiar faces race by her. A bleak moan immediately caught in her throat as her expression darkened to the sight of Gin's customer's fleeing the corridor, and something told her that by the time she returned for her dress, not even its ashes would remain.

Back at the boutique, Akira was the one to take a dominant step towards HOMRA's agitated gathering at the mouth of the store, hoping to draw their attention away from his young accomplice. "Hidaka Akira and Dōmyōji Andy of SCEPTRE4!" he announced proudly. "By the authority given to us by Fourth King Munakata Reisi, we command you to unhand that civilian!"

Andy looked at his friend with glowing eyes, narrowly stifling the excited squeal he attempted to lock behind his teeth. "So… cool!"

The red clansmen gathered around seemed to still for a moment to process the command, and soon, Rikio was releasing Gin, but only so he could grip his aching sides while he strained with laughter. "Oh man, are these guys for real!?"

"_Halt! Drop that nerd_!" Misaki taunted spiritedly. "Look! He's super serious about it too!"

To the sounds of HOMRA's ridicule, Akira groaned, dropping his arm until it slapped the denim of his jeans in defeat. "These people…" he seethed through clenched teeth.

Most innocent bystanders managed to evacuate, but even after his release, Gin remained, staring in disbelief at the confrontation unfolding. After he left Izumo's company last, Gin had dug deeper into the world focussed on rejecting him, discovering more than Izumo had divulged about the rumoured Blue Clan and their recent resurrection. When the two men in the doorway spoke with authoritative superiority, he knew that he was looking at two blue clansmen. Their announcement only confirmed what he had sensed in his heart to be accurate, and a part of him wondered why it had been so obvious.

And it was true. Red and blue did _not_ get along, by any means.

Masaomi couldn't help but snigger along with the rest of his allies as he addressed the bold command. "That's pretty big talk for a pair of blues picking a fight, even though they're outnumbered."

"We're not picking a fight," Akira added brusquely. "We're upholding order under Protocol 120, which you are currently in direct violation of."

Andy was eager to get involved when he rushed to Akira's side and attempted to fill his voice with the same level of authority. "So, in other words, you red better stand down and unhand that innocent, or else!"

With an edgy groan, Akira bopped his eager partner on the head. "Idiot! Don't threaten them!"

Misaki chuckled devilishly and dropped his skateboard onto the tiles by their feet. "Finally, some real action," he hissed excitedly. "I was startin' to regret comin' up until now."

"Although it isn't what Kusanagi anticipated, it looks like it's still a good thing I tagged along." Saruhiko took a step beside Misaki and glowered down his nose at their rivals. "We're lucky Tsukiyo ran off somewhere. Otherwise, this would be a real pain."

"The Red Clan's Yatagarasu and Fushimi Saruhiko, the heart of HOMRA's front line," Akira murmured upon introduction. "Those are some pretty noble titles for a couple of thugs who would bully an innocent civilian."

Grinding his teeth was the least that Saruhiko could muster as he felt the weight of a knife come into his palm in preparation to face the challenge ahead. They could split hairs about his tendency to walk around armed any given day, but that was one thing he would agree with Neirah on every time. HOMRA was the centre of too much conflict for him not to come prepared.

"Keep your nose outta our business!" Yō impatiently roared.

"Civilian or not, this kid's no stranger to HOMRA," Masaomi agreed. "If he didn't want trouble, he should've kept out of it too."

Rikio advanced, knocking his knuckles into his opposing palm and giving them a thorough cracking as he took the other side of their vanguard to face their enemies. "Dewa's right," he drawled. "You two sure are good at talkin' shit even though it's just the two of you. You must be damn cocky to think that you can handle all of us on your own."

Misaki advanced a step to centre his right foot on his board with a wicked grin broadening on his face. "Fushimi?"

"Yeah," Saruhiko droned. "I wasn't gonna get involved, but in just a few words, you two managed to piss me off."

As Andy and Akira readied themselves for the confrontation with fixed gazes, Misaki coughed out a derisive snort. "Looks like they're gettin' into it," he ridiculed. "Can you blues even fight without your swords?"

"Don't underestimate those who serve under the Fourth King," Akira reassured him edgily. "Dōmyōji, remember that securing the safety of the innocents in the area should be our number one priority."

"Yeah, yeah," Andy dismissed in a flighty tone. An eager gleam reflected in his jade eyes as his smile broadened. "We'll be doing that by putting these guys in their place, right? I'll take the mouthpiece on the skateboard. I'm looking forward to teaching him to respect our clan."

"Dōmyōji!"

"Fine by me!" Misaki roared on approach. "Come at me, blues!"

Akira was staggered to think that their confrontation had escalated so quickly, but a scuffle with the Red Clan was unavoidable if they wished to maintain order. Watching Andy charge HOMRA's vanguard still made him nervous, because he could respect that they shouldn't take their opponents lightly. Luckily, before he could try and interfere with the impending conflict of two ignited auras, someone else had stepped into the fray.

When he said stepped, what he meant was leaped, dived, tumbled across the floor and raised onto delicate fingertips before performing a split kick that saw a foot slam into each of the ginger's jaws before they could collide. Then, springing from her hands into a front aerial, her layout landed her just far enough away that she could swing her flaming leg into a full roundhouse strike, beating Andy back until he was toppling through the store entrance with a pained yip.

"Dōmyōji-!" Before Akira could approach, he choked on his attempt at calling out to his friend when Neirah's golden kunai raced past his pulse a whisper away from his skin. He remained gravely still as he panted his hesitancy next to the dart that was sticking out of the wall adjacent, his peripherals nervously tilting to face the woman straightening in the centre of the store. "What the-?"

Her tone saturated in venom despite her voice uttering the caution quietly. "Don't. ruin. my day."

Neirah's burning gaze locked with Akira's, and he felt his blood run cold. She had managed to silence the groaning vanguard in an instant, reining in their need for conflict just by appearing. When he considered the sight of her regal posture warding off their offence, he appreciated who stood before them.

"The Red Lion," he muttered apprehensively. His teeth ground together with his clenching fist. "Damn… She was here too?"

From where Andy was picking himself out of the settling debris across the hall, he clutched his aching arm with a pained wince. "That's the one Lieutenant Awashima-san warned us about, isn't it?"

"Stay close," Akira commanded.

Despite the humour being void in Neirah's expression a moment prior, a sinister smirk curled her lips to consider Andy's casual proclamation. "She talks about me, does she?" A low purr rumbled in her throat as she approached Akira with the purpose of reclaiming her weapon. "I must have made an impression."

Panicking to the sight of her nearing, Akira ripped her dart from the divider and readied to face off. "Don't come any closer!" he ordered. "We at SCEPTRE4 seek to prevent conflict between the clans, but if you persist, I won't hold back!"

A devilish grin was joining her sardonic cackle as she derided his announcement. "And why would you? Because I'm a woman?" With incomprehensible speed, Neirah ducked beneath his impending strike and popped up alongside him to seize his arm. She cracked it unnaturally until it forced him to drop her knife. Once he twisted, she pinned his arm between his shoulders and dropped him to his knees. Slowly rolling her head to one side revealed her malicious intent to his agonized expression as she playfully rested her chin on his shoulder. "You're not worth my time," she cautioned him sultrily. "And neither is she if she can't even address me properly to her fellow clansmen."

Through wild eyes and crooked glasses, Gin watched in utter disbelief as HOMRA's hunter went to work. He had uncovered a lot of stories about the beast she became to protect her friends, but what he was seeing was even more inhuman than he thought. She moved fluidly with the wind, her eyes flashing fire. He couldn't help but marvel once she'd arrived, but when he saw the sight of Andy bravely approaching the woman in hopes of protecting his fellow clansmen, he scrambled towards the commotion in alarm. "Tsukiyo! Look out!"

When Neirah heard Gin call out to her like he thought she needed his help to track the heavy footsteps of the youth at her back, she rolled her eyes and beat Akira forward. When the tension in her bent knees released, she sprang backwards over Andy's approach. Upon landing, she raised her sole and helped the boy carry his momentum into his ally. "_Seri-chan_ obviously hasn't trained you two all too well yet, has she?" she purred scathingly. "Or maybe you were too busy gawking at her chest to pay attention to her lessons."

When Andy scrambled to his feet, he immediately glowered at the brash announcement on the lioness' lips. "I won't let you disrespect the Lieutenant like that!"

A burning Neirah tipped her head back with a sinister cluck. "Then go ahead and stop me, boys," she challenged. "But do me a favour when this is over and make sure you tell her every word I've said. I want her to be good and angry the next time we meet."

"Is this chick crazy or what?" Andy hissed apprehensively. "She definitely has it out for the Lieutenant, not to mention she's really creepy." He shuddered. "Ehn… chills…"

"We should call for backup," Akira murmured from where he knelt by Andy's side. "They're right. It's pretty arrogant of us to think that we can take six of them on our own, especially with their vanguard and hunter here."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Misaki snarled. "One girl shows up, and you lose your nerve just like that?! What a bunch of pussies!"

"They must have the same complex as you do," Saruhiko interrupted dryly.

"F-fuck off!"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko growled as he returned his throwing dart to his sleeve. It seemed like his entire effort to be the moderator was ruined by Neirah's sudden strike of conscience. It looked like she didn't have any intention of continuing the scuffle, but he supposed if she was going to be flighty, he appreciated her leaning towards the other side for once. "Whatever. Now that Tsukiyo's involved, the rest of the blues are probably going to be here any minute. I'm not interested in going to war over a dress."

"Fushimi, what the hell!?" Misaki barked intolerantly. He rushed to Saruhiko's side with tense fists, hoping to intercept his friend's retreat. "Where's your sense of pride!? You can't just walk away from a fight! It'll make HOMRA look bad!"

There was exhaustion on Saruhiko's face as he rolled his eyes with a tedious click of his tongue. "Says the guy who just got his ass handed to him by a woman, and a woman on his team, no less," he hummed impatiently. "As usual, Tsukiyo's managed to take care of things on her own regardless of your _pride_."

"Don't make me separate you two as well." Neirah smiled as she straightened, tossing her shopping bags over her shoulder like the entire ordeal hadn't happened. "But he's right, Yata. We're done here, so let's go home."

Groaning his defiance, Misaki whirled to face her with a disheartened look on his face. "We're just gonna let them go?"

Neirah's expression darkened as she tapered her gaze on the sight of the men panting bitterly on the floor of the upturned store. "Picking on a pair of defenceless blue clansmen would also be bad for HOMRA's pride," she mocked. "It would be no better than bullying civilians, wouldn't you say, boys?" Her sadistic smirk faded to genuine contentment the moment she'd turned it away from their rivals. "Let's try this again someday, but next time, bring your 'toys' out to play."

"My Excalibur is not a toy," Andy snarled.

Similarly, Akira ground his teeth and hissed with the pressure of his defiance. "I think I understand why the Lieutenant doesn't like her. She certainly has a mind of her own." He watched their party retreat like the entire ordeal had never caused walls to buckle beneath their violence, and he couldn't help but feel discouraged as he dropped his gaze to his clenching fist. "They made us look like fools." But in the end, a sense of order was maintained. Gin was released, and without either of the disappointed men realizing it, he was also approaching.

"Are you two alright?!"

Andy turned and cocked a brow towards the kind brunette curiously, a little befuddled when the commoner showed more worry for their state than his own. "Wait, shouldn't we be asking you that? You're the one they were after, weren't you?"

Gin laughed off the ginger's concern and straightened his spectacles. "Oh, that? Don't worry about it! It wouldn't be the first time those guys have beat me to the curb."

As Akira climbed to his feet between the two, Andy's brow twitched with bafflement.

"Well, at least they're not liars," Akira announced wryly. "They did say that you weren't a stranger to their clan."

With a bright smile, Gin offered them a friendly giggle, happy that the blue clansmen were a little more inviting to converse with than their red counterparts. "Actually, if you're not too busy, would you have time to answer some questions for me?" He turned to face where Neirah had taken one last look of longing at the kimono on display in the front window before allowing his expression to humble with dismay. "I… want to know more about your world," he admitted dismally. "A world where anything and everything is possible." He raised sad eyes to meet the concern on the faces of his hosts, and another meek smile found his lips. "I-is there a way… to become a part of that world?"


	23. Knowledgeable

**Knowledgeable**

* * *

_**March 21st, 2010**_

The wind was picking up, noting that spring was upon them, and it couldn't come soon enough, in Izumo's opinion. He retracted his hands from deep within his jacket pockets, picking a cigarette out of its packaging before pinching it between his teeth. Then, he startled, guiltily peeking over both shoulders to make sure he was alone before concealing the effort of lighting it.

After closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and exhaled the toxin he'd let settle in his lungs. It was becoming difficult to steal a moment to himself for a smoke with Neirah around. She had become easily triggered by the habit that even she partook in on occasion. He wasn't supposed to know that part, but given the right _inspiration_, it wasn't hard to get the majority of his boys to blab. The irony of her sudden change of heart was that Izumo wasn't pleased with her indulgence from the start, and if he ever caught her with a bottle of liquor in her apartment, there'd be hell to pay. He appreciated that Tatara would be the last of their companions to instigate something like that, though.

Without dropping his head from where it watched the sky above, he slowly opened his eyes, grateful for a lavender shield as the sun beat down on the quiet street. Because he was alone, Izumo allowed his expression to look sad, his lips to part until he'd nearly lost his light while he let his thoughts wander.

Izumo never wanted Neirah to get attached in the first place, and he'd made that more than clear from the beginning. When she first looked at him with hesitant eyes and called him _Onii-san_, he'd rejected the mere thought. But somewhere between then and now, he'd stopped denying her the pleasure, and even found himself considering her in similar regard. The truth was, he cared about the little brat. He cared about her more than he probably should have, given their relationship. He could deny it all he wanted, but she'd managed to bury herself under his skin until nobody could tell that they didn't share the same blood.

Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to care when all she wanted was to prove her independence. To avoid playing favourites, Izumo found himself employing the services of their swifter clansmen, Saruhiko, mainly, to keep tabs on her when he couldn't. It was a skill that Saruhiko had in abundance. Seeing how he didn't seem to hold much interest outside of what was assigned, he made a perfect informant. Or, he would until the crafty vixen caught onto their schemes.

With a crooked smile, Izumo dropped his head towards the vacant street. If Saruhiko could learn to lighten up a little, he might have even considered him a suitable equal, or replacement. Not that he was intending on going anywhere anytime soon, but it would be nice to have someone capable of sharing the load. His bar had been playing host to minors for so long that he wasn't even sure he'd know what to do otherwise.

Izumo's smile faded moments after his thoughts began to twist again, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets before taking another step. Carrying a bad feeling with him towards his bar that day, he wondered if there was a chance that Saruhiko could be wrong, but he could never outwardly challenge the youth's unbiased intelligence just because his passion got in the way. Saruhiko didn't act impulsively, and he didn't have an interest in contorting the story to satisfy. If he said that there was a rumour that Neirah might not return to them from Nagasaki, then there was a good chance that they were about to be down a hunter. And that didn't sit well with him.

That was the part that amused him. A little over a year ago, Izumo would be the first one to shoo her away from the nest, begging her to spread her wings. Since, however, he'd taken too much pride in watching her fly. The thought of losing his little lion warned him that he would spend countless sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling. He would spend hours wondering if she finished her homework, if the boys were leaving her alone, or if she was managing her finances accordingly, everything a big brother should.

With a musical sigh, Izumo pulled out his keys to the front door of his modest business and mumbled his words quietly to himself. "Now, when did you go and get so tangled up in our lives?" Twisting the tumbler, he stepped into the quiet building before closing the door and relocking it behind him. The bar itself wouldn't be welcome to patrons that day, and Izumo would like to think that was because he'd needed time to live outside of work, but the truth was that he just couldn't stay away if he wanted to. HOMRA was home. It was more than a bar, more than a mark on their skin or power from their king, and it was where Neirah belonged.

With exhaustion tugging on his expression, Izumo tipped his gaze to where it met Mikoto's hunched shoulders. Their mighty king was stretched out on the sofa by the window, basking in the early morning sunlight and snoozing away without a care in the world. Something about that caused Izumo's already irritable mood to obscure resentfully.

It was no coincidence that Neirah had left paw prints on his heart because the king she so revered wasn't far from a beast himself. Tatara teased the pair, mocking Mikoto in saying that Neirah did all the hard work so he could be lazy, similar to the way lions might act in the wild. But Izumo saw the likeness for what it was, a bad influence.

It was true that Neirah had picked up a little something from everyone, and he was relieved that most of it seemed to come from Tatara. However, the unintentional similarities between she and Mikoto were unmistakably destructive, not to mention, becoming stronger every day. It was a good thing Tatara seemed to pick up on new things willingly because _beast-taming_ was undoubtedly going to be a part of his foreseeable future.

"Stop that."

Izumo flinched, snapping his lax expression into reality with a curt gasp. "Oh, you're awake, are you?"

Mikoto groaned and flopped over on the cushions before dropping his feet onto the floor and sitting upright. For a man so lithe when he willed it, it was amusing to watch him groan as if merely raising made his tired bones ache. "I can feel you hating me from all the way over there."

Izumo cocked his head wryly with a roguish grin. "Lemme guess, _king's intuition_?"

After closing his eyes, Mikoto smirked and dropped his elbows onto his knees. Part of him wanted to challenge the sarcasm in Izumo's tone, wondering what was keeping him from speaking the statement sincerely, given his past experiences with the Red King's accuracy. "You're here early, considerin' the place isn't even open today."

"I had some errands to run, so I was in the neighbourhood." Taking off his jacket, Izumo quietly stepped through the bar, tossing the leather against the counter like the effort might help him relieve some tension. "So, I thought I would pop by and visit our king."

"I suppose I should be flattered."

An irritated twitch caused Izumo's expression to contort as he seated himself at his bar like he'd awaited service, and he tried not to let his leader's instigating retort grate on his last nerve. When he gathered his resolve under proper management, he spun to face Mikoto squarely. "Actually, if you're not too busy, I thought I might have a word with _Your Highness_."

"Uh oh," Mikoto muffled from behind the cigarette he'd just kindled. "You only say it like that when I've royally fucked up."

"It's about-"

"About the kid, right?" When Izumo didn't continue, Mikoto climbed to his feet with an exasperated groan. "Yeah, I figured." Expecting to see signs of confusion on Izumo's face, he wasn't surprised when he raised his head to meet the silent calculation of his companion. Equally as predictably, it wasn't a moment later that the perplexity on his face was fading. Anna didn't talk a lot about what she saw in other living creatures unless she thought it was important enough to act upon, but she didn't want to lose her big sister. In that sense, it was no surprise that she kept her king in the loop.

Dramatically tipping his head to follow Mikoto's slow pace caused Izumo's brow to knot with discomfort. He watched Mikoto circle the bar to grab himself a glass, but when the man disappeared into the kitchen, he had to straighten his craned neck. "That ability of yours sure is somethin' else," he drawled. "Is mind-reading something that comes along with being a king?"

It took a generous amount of self-control for Mikoto to repress the desire to challenge that Izumo knew more about the slate and its dealings than he ever cared to. But when Mikoto exited the kitchen, his face was tipped behind the glass he'd just filled. After he straightened, he met the intensity of Izumo's gaze without hesitation. "No, you're just that easy to figure out," he surrendered in a low rumble. "You're a nervous wreck when it comes to that kid. It's great, actually." His sinister beam only tightened with the sarcasm he droned to rile his friend. "Seeing how you spent so long pretending not to care."

The irritation in Izumo's face became so tight that he had to lean against his bar and rub the ache from his brow, reminding himself that he was falling right into Mikoto's sadistic trap. It wasn't like the game was new to him. "If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times," he reasoned. "I didn't want any of this for her to begin with, but seeing her become more like you every day is what really pisses me off, and you're not doing a damn thing to prevent it."

Their roles had reversed when Mikoto stepped towards the bar and set down his empty glass. "Come on. Is that really such a bad thing?" He softly growled when Izumo snatched the cup to slide a coaster beneath the condensation that was threatening to puddle against the hardwood. "Shouldn't you be happy?" he persisted. "I mean, isn't that what you wanted? To not have to worry about our girls? It's got nothing to do with me."

"Give me a break," Izumo commanded redundantly. "Did you forget that she's doing all this for you? Or did you not notice in the first place?"

A knowing smile cocked Mikoto's thinned smirk up to one side with his bobbing cigarette. "Can't see it."

Izumo's slackened posture wound with impatience as he edged towards the bar across from his king. "She's doing this to repay whatever debt she thinks she owes you for giving her power."

A playful grunt rumbled within Mikoto's chest as he leaned closer to challenge his comrade's advance with both of his palms flat on the polished countertop. "You seem tense. Want me to mix you somethin' to help take the edge off?"

The bitter groan to fill Izumo's chest was intolerant as he folded one arm at his front, bringing his second hand to his face to hold the cigarette he sucked on. Once he closed his eyes, he silently counted to ten before exhaling the smoke he'd retained and prepared to reason with his snarky ruler. "Just because you're unhappy with how your fate turned out doesn't mean you have to drag a promising young lady down with you," he cautioned bluntly. "Don't take this out on her."

Mikoto's teasing expression humbly softened as he picked out an ashtray from behind the counter. He seemed to ponder Izumo's words for a moment when he offered it before he finally spoke in an attempt to divert the subject. "You've been in _big brother_ mode for a while," he suggested keenly. "If you keep it up, you're actually going to start believing you're related."

"I already had that moral epiphany earlier this morning, so tell me somethin' I don't know."

Mikoto's smile grew more genuine as their conversation continued. "So, you did it then?"

Without opening his eyes, Izumo returned his cigarette to his teeth before reaching into the mickey-pocket of his discarded coat. When he managed to dig the envelope out of the concealment, he slapped the papers down between them. "Of course, I did." When he roughly slumped in his seat, he folded his arms across his chest with a dull snort. "Like hell I'm lettin' my kid sister take the train all the way out to Nagasaki."

Realizing that Izumo wasn't going to show him any mercy that morning, Mikoto heaved a weary sigh and turned away. He braced his hips against the bar, watching the reflection of the morning light dance on various shades of glass liquor bottles arranged on the wall. "So, what do you want me to do about it?" he quietly interjected. "You give me shit at least once a week, but I don't see how any of this is my problem." He didn't make Neirah his clansman to establish control over her. He did it to set her free.

Izumo finally opened his eyes, staring down at the thin envelope placed between them. A weary sigh escaped his chest with his next exhale, and his expression chastened. "Truth might be that I just need someone to blame, and you're an easy target," he admitted ruefully. "Not sure what else there is to do now that the damage is done. You made her your clansman, and that's a damn shame, but now that she's here, she's just part of the family."

"What do you think would've happened if I didn't?" Mikoto instigated. "Where do you think she'd be now?"

Izumo's gaze tapered with pressure denoting his disdain. "Don't ask me to think about that," he muttered despondently. "I just need to be mad for a bit."

Mikoto continued to watch the refracting light catch his fleeting peripherals as his thoughts ran rampant. He knew that Izumo tended to get upset when Neirah was involved, but something about his second's defence had struck a chord within the king. It must have seemed silly, from their point of view, that he could resent power. But it baffled him that no matter how much power the slate had granted him, it couldn't achieve him the freedom he desired. Life just seemed like a game where everyone had to play by somebody else's rules.

If Neirah were indeed anything like him, she wouldn't find the peace she was looking for in Nagasaki, just like she hadn't dug it out of Minato's harbour against the Yakuza the year prior. She chipped away at links in a chain she couldn't comprehend, still ambitious enough to dream of the sound the last one made when it shattered. But Mikoto knew better. The chain was longer than any one lifetime could chase, and it could cage even the wildest souls.

But she still hoped, where he'd long surrendered. Even if she felt trapped, she fought against her binds. She'd been fighting since the day they'd met her, and her struggle rekindled his hope that someday, they'd find the end of that chain together. But it wasn't going to end with Nagasaki. Call it _king's intuition_.

"It's funny to talk about being unhappy with the fates we claimed to make our own." When Mikoto felt Izumo shift his attention by his reverse, he sighed. Izumo wasn't laughing, and he'd been far from considering Neirah's well-being a joke. "But the truth is, those chains will keep trying to pin us down and remind us that we've gotta keep fighting." He turned over his shoulder to face Izumo's curiosity. "What's worse? Watching her fight alongside people that she cares about, or kickin' her back onto the streets to play by everyone else's rules? At least here, she's got a shot."

Mikoto laughed through his nose, which made the provocation sound derisive. "You seem to keep forgetting that I turned her away the night Totsuka first dug her out of that alley," he calmly reminded his colleague. He diverted his amber leer vacantly to one side as he recalled the memories. "That's when I saw it, a fire in her eyes before she'd ever touched me, and I knew she was a fighter."

Izumo's gaze was vacant as he stared into the abyssal space between them with his fingers clutching his smouldering cigarette to his face. "Then, that was the hope you were talking about."

Mikoto closed his eyes and stepped away from the conversation to circle the bar, his thoughts troubled. "I'm not sayin' that I know the kid any better than you do, but I think it's wrong just to assume that this isn't what she wants."

Izumo's stomach churned as he forced a dry swallow down his throat, carrying the guilt of his knowledge on his shoulders. "That kid doesn't have a damn clue what she should want," he muttered despondently. That was why he resented Mikoto's unintentional influence on her so avidly.

"And who are you to tell her otherwise? Who am I?" Mikoto stopped in his tracks, his hands deep in his pockets as he stared forward into the void of his thoughts. "Ever seen a lion in a cage? If you look it in the eye, there's no fire there. The fire comes from the fight, its instinct to survive and make the world bow to it." With a slow blink, he quietly raised his gaze towards the silent street on the other side of the door ahead. "Isn't that why Totsuka gave her that name in the first place?"

All Izumo could do was silently refute the comparison with the information he'd recently received. "Maybe she doesn't want to be an animal. She's grown up a lot in the last couple of years, in case you missed that too, so maybe she's finally figured out that the world is more complicated than you would make it out to be."

Mikoto didn't seem to absorb the intended insult from Izumo's callous rebuttal. "Maybe," he mockingly agreed. Suddenly, a sinister grin was curling his lips to consider Izumo's parting words. "But this is still what she wants, so you should probably just heed your own advice and get used to it." A gentle chortle of amusement caught in his throat to consider the rattled man he'd left behind, unaccepting and stressing over a fate that was entirely in Neirah's control. "She made this her place. You said it yourself." She was making it what she wanted it to be. "It's a part of her now. She can't just walk away."

He slowly turned to face a staggered Izumo, his hands in his denim pockets as their gazes locked. "You say she's like me, but that's not true. She's better than that. She'll chase those links until there's nothing left to fight, and when she's lookin' down on us from the top of the world, even kings will kneel to our little lion's roar."

As confident as Mikoto sounded in the young woman facing the most confusing years of her life, he couldn't feel comforted. Instead, he felt even more discouraged to think that they had trapped her in such a bleak cycle. "Is that any way to live?"

"When you're a king, it's the only way to live."

Izumo's gaze tapered with impatience as he stared at the ground, and when he tipped his head to meet Mikoto's casual presence, his last nerve severed. "Neirah is not a king."

It was a delicate snort, at first, but soon, Mikoto was rumbling a low wave of laughter. "I guess you're right," he hummed in defeat. "But that's why I get this funny feelin' that she'll be better than me."

"By better, you mean-"

"She'll make it," Mikoto murmured fondly. "She's gonna find the end of that thing and burn it. She'll set the whole damn world on fire if she has to because that's what she wants. It's not for you, or me, or even Totsuka." Mikoto felt choked by the collar the Dresden Slate had cinched to his neck with a glossy nametag reading _King_, but Neirah was unbound. A king had enabled her, but once Neirah set her mind to something, not even a king could stand in her way. In his eyes, the only weakness she had was in her own fragile heart, but when it burned, she was unstoppable. Whereas Izumo seemed to resent that, he thought it was a beautiful thing.

Mikoto smiled and slowly started for the door, accepting that they might never see eye-to-eye with their surrogate parenting styles. "Just remember, the next time you decide to ride my ass about keepin' her around, I tried. But you know full well that Totsuka wouldn't've let me hear the end of it if it went down any other way. If you wanna blame someone, blame him."

Izumo snickered softly under his breath. "He does seem to hold the reins around here sometimes, doesn't he?"

Resting his hand on the front doorframe, Mikoto turned his lethargic expression over his shoulder to face his friend. "I'll talk to her if it'll help you sleep at night."

Izumo smirked. "Same time next week?"

"Yeah…"

Izumo watched Mikoto leave, but he wasn't sure that their talk had made him feel any better. If nothing else, he managed to vent some of his frustrations against a durable target. From what he recalled, Mikoto didn't often vocalize his opinions on their fellow clansmen and their business. Everyone had a story, and their king respected that, but it was _their_ story, not his. Mikoto never intruded on their pages, but Neirah's seemed to be an exception. It made Izumo wonder if maybe he wasn't the only one who took pride in the woman she had become.

"So, Little Lion…" He laid one arm on the top of his bar, reaching to take the envelope in his hand before tapping its edge against the rosewood. "When _did_ you go and get so tangled up in our lives?"

* * *

It was nearly noon before Mikoto managed to slink away from Izumo's insistent nagging and take in the sight of his kingdom. The streets of Shizume were already wide awake and active, but he'd bet that at least half of his pride still flirted with their dreams. Sometimes, he even chanced to wonder what they saw. It wasn't that he didn't care about their hopes and aspirations, but his mind was typically too distracted to focus on any story too intently. Some days, it seemed like the only part of him that had any freedom to run.

An exhausted sigh heaved from his chest when he closed his eyes and dropped his head like just thinking about his promises made him queasy. He told Izumo that he'd speak to their hunter, but the mere consideration was arduous. Something assured him that Anna wasn't going to be nearly as wild as she matured, but he didn't doubt that she would make them any less proud. She was sweet and mild-mannered, quite the opposite of the dynamic sadist she called _sister_, but she shared the same big heart filled with aspiring hope. There was no doubt about it. Their girls were special, and a force to be reckoned with no matter the obstacles they had to overcome.

"Shit… The fuck did I leave it this time?"

_Hm?_ Mikoto alerted, raising his attention from the sidewalk towards the bitter cursing of a man struggling to find his lighter in his black leather jacket. Once his golden eyes had met the amusing sight of the man's distress, his lips curled around his cigarette until he approached with a satisfied smirk on his face. "Need a light?"

Tomaya immediately straightened, his senses perking attentively to the low rumble at his back, and he quickly whirled to face its origin. Sure enough, he turned to the sight of Suoh Mikoto standing casually with a cocky grin on full display. When approached with the irony, Tomaya couldn't help but snort his amusement. "No shit," he sassed. "Gonna make me beg for it?"

Mikoto slowly approached and ignited his thumb, holding it out towards the flustered Strain in welcome. "Nah, I got my fill the first time."

With a defiant growl, Tomaya swatted the generous man's hand away with his knuckles, shamelessly flashing the sight of his scars before nursing his nicotine fix. "Don't test me, Suoh," he cautioned. "Dunno if you've noticed, but I've got a bit of a temper. And right now, if I so much as _look_ at someone the wrong way, those bluecoats are gonna jump down my throat."

Mikoto cocked his head to one side curiously, somewhat whimsical in his approach. "And here I thought you were a free man."

Tomaya snorted. "As free as you can be with those cocky bastards watching your every move," he groaned. He retracted his cigarette and raised his gaze towards the vast, cloudless sky above them. "Not exactly a glamorous life, but so long as I don't miss curfew, they won't lock me up like a criminal." The intensity of his expression mildly softened as he turned to face the Red King with a mischievous grin. "But that's fine. The only reason I even wanted these abilities in the first place was to make you eat dirt." He snickered impishly and diverted his attention when he returned his poison to chapped lips. "Now that we're cool, they're yesterday's news."

Mikoto bowed his head with a gruff snort. "Too bad. I was lookin' forward to a real fight with you someday."

"Oh yeah," Tomaya derided. "I'm sure that's exactly what those shitheads at SCEPTRE4 want too. You're not workin' for 'em, are you? 'Cause it'd be a damn shame if I had to give up that one shred of respect I found for you back then."

A dim scoff challenged Tomaya's sincerity. "Now, there's an unpleasant thought. I'm pretty sure if Munakata had a reason to get involved with the both of us, he'd probably drop dead for all the excitement."

Tomaya nearly choked on his next deep inhale. "Pft, well shit. What're we waitin' for then?"

Mikoto joined Tomaya in deriding their mutual rival. "Unfortunately, even the thought of a dead Munakata makes me wanna gag," he admitted dryly. "I'd rather not think about him at all if that's an option."

When Mikoto started walking, it was slow and casual, offering Tomaya the chance to join if he so wanted. Surprisingly enough, he did, and with little encouragement. "Yeah, that's right. Nei-chan mentioned that you two don't get along. Big surprise there." He grunted. "Just a couple of months in that place made me want to stay on my best behaviour, hoping that I never have to see him again."

"He must be devastated."

"Fuck if I care." Tomaya growled and wrinkled his freckled nose before picking his light from between his teeth, tapping the ashes onto the ground. "You two can duke it out all you want, but I'm done. I learned a lot during my stay, and I'm washin' my hands of all of it."

"Must be nice to just walk away."

_Hnh?_ After watching Mikoto continue to trudge by his side, without repeating the statement Tomaya had questioned, he shrugged his shoulders to dismiss his interest. "How's my Nei-chan doin', anyways? Last time I saw her, she looked worse than I do, and I'm a goddamned insomniac."

Even though he didn't reconnect their gazes, Mikoto couldn't help but let a small laugh escape his centre. "Aren't you prince charming."

Tomaya rolled his eyes with a devious smirk. "No, I'm the dragon, remember?"

"She's got you on about that too, huh?"

"Yeah. She told me what the scrawny fuck in the glasses said about the whole shebang." After running his disfigured palm through his thick ginger bangs, Tomaya turned his complete attention towards Mikoto to examine his indifference. "Seriously, though. She looked like she hadn't slept for a month. And not that I'm sayin' I'm a real interesting guy, but she at least _tried_ to pay attention to what I was sayin' before." When he flopped his hand lifelessly by his side, a low and defensive growl filled his once casual tone. "Yo, if I find out you assholes are workin' her to the bone-"

"Her old man's on his deathbed. has been since the beginning of the year," Mikoto murmured dismally. "She's takin' off to Nagasaki this summer to see him for the first time in a while."

Tomaya's expression immediately dropped as he absently flopped his cigarette between his lips. "Shit… that bad, huh? Oh well. The guy was a prick anyway." With a hearty sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and diverted his amber gaze toward the ground. "Bet the guilt of that one's eatin' her alive."

"She'll be fine."

The Strain nearly tripped over his feet to hear Mikoto refute his concerns so casually. "Whoa, that was fast," he remarked. "You even know what I'm talkin' about?"

"Her _curse_, right?" Mikoto offered the man a mocking smile. "Don't tell me you buy into that crap."

"I don't have to for her to live her whole damn life around it," he derided. "That kid'll apologize for being born if you let her."

"Then stop letting her."

_Hm? _

"It was good to see you're still kickin' around," Mikoto announced casually upon parting. Without looking back, he raised one hand from his pocket to wave at Tomaya. "We'll go at it one day. Until then, don't let that pretty-boy Munakata boss you around too much. I'd hate to give up that last shred of respect I found for you back then."

Through a sinister beam, Tomaya picked the cigarette from his face. "You're my kinda asshole, Suoh," he purred fondly. Even after Mikoto had left him behind, he still couldn't look away as he dropped his arm to his side and tapped the ashes from his smouldering toxin. "You coulda been my king."

* * *

Getting the best angle in the small areas around the bar mirroring her reflection had caused Neirah's neck to ache from craning so dramatically. When she finally managed to peek her furrowed brow, she raised her fingers to her scalp and began to comb her wild bangs with her fingernails. As her tresses flattened tamely along her forehead, her cheeks started to flush with colour, and soon, she'd clawed them to their dishevelled origins like she'd resented their tidiness.

Nearby, Misaki's jaw rested in his raised palm, and his tapered gaze was dubious as he examined her from a table nearby. She'd fluster, scratch away her style, settle her nerves, and then moments later, try something new. He was becoming exhausted through merely watching her, and soon, he couldn't help but intervene. "You think your hair's gonna make a difference?" He didn't retreat from her disconcerted disturbance linking their gazes from across the room. Instead, he let the silence drag for a moment, not seeming to comprehend how casually he'd managed to address her. "It looks fine the way it is, and if he doesn't like it, just tell him to go fuck himself."

The impact of his words had Neirah stiffening, a surprising chill racing from her toes to the tips of her ears even as she felt the temperature in her face skyrocket. Her wild gaze focussed on his unexpected sincerity, and as startled as she was to notice his expression had remained void of humour, it also didn't seem to contain doubt. Truthfully, the genuine compliment had left her staggered.

Noticing the discomfort making Neirah's already squirmy conduct twist, Misaki repeated the sentiment in his head a few times until he'd realized just how awkward it must have sounded. Then, he started to linger on the thought that his words might have come off as insensitive to her when considering her father's ailing state. Still, the more he thought about apologetically retracting the statement, the more his face contorted with humiliation. "A-ah I m-mean, well-"

Neirah's smile glowed sheepishly wavy as she thrust her palms between her thighs and wriggled in her seat. "It's alright," she whispered. "That's always been one of my favourite things about you. You always say what's on your mind, and I appreciate your honesty." Growing a little surer of herself by his inspiration, she quietly returned her gaze to his and comforted him with a fond grin. "You're absolutely right. It would be pretty petty of him to disgrace his only child just because he didn't like her hairstyle."

Misaki wilted in his chair, trying to play off the mawkishness in a way that made him sound less like he was trying to compliment her and more like he was trying to demean her father. "W-well, yeah. That's why I said it."

Her smile humbled even further to watch him stammer out a defence, her chest aching with the fondness she felt for the support of her comrades. It was something that she would miss if there ever came a day where she couldn't laugh with them. But something about Misaki's blunt approach also gave her hope that maybe she could show a little tenderness without becoming a burden to her allies.

Suddenly, Neirah became distracted by the sight of her king entering the bar, and she could only imagine he'd just returned from his morning walk that typically didn't start until sometime around noon. She met his casual grace with a respectful smile and a gentle bow of her head. "Good afternoon, King-sama."

Following Neirah's inspiration, Misaki slammed his hands on the tabletop in front of him and whirled in his seat to face their visitor. "Yo! Mikoto-san! Welcome back!" he announced brightly with a firm nod of his head. "Pretty great weather, huh? It's totally getting warmer out there!"

Shrugging indifferently, Mikoto turned his eyes on the sight of Neirah sitting at the bar. After confirming that she was alone, save for Izumo and Misaki nearby, he addressed her in a low tone. "Totsuka not with you today?"

Neirah laughed at the irony of his consideration. "He and Anna-chan went to track you down not ten minutes ago," she teased. "I would say, by the looks of it, they were unsuccessful."

"Then what'd ya say we go after them?"

It was hard to tell who was more startled by his easy command, Neirah or Misaki, and as soon as Misaki's ears intercepted the invitation, he was scrambling eagerly to his feet. "Ah! Mikoto-san, I'll go with you! I think I even know where they're-"

"Yata-chan, if you're not busy, I could use a hand over here." Izumo cast Neirah a kind smile before nodding his head toward their king. "You go, Neirah. You're not much use to me if all you're going to do is sit around and twirl your finger in your hair all afternoon."

With a curt snort, Neirah turned and stuck her tongue out at her self-proclaimed sibling. "That's fine. I didn't want to help you, anyway."

"But Kusanagi-san-!"

"Come on, Yata," Izumo instigated knowingly. "I think Mikoto and Neirah can handle this one on their own, so let's get to it."

Even as Neirah passed Misaki with an apologetic grin, she couldn't help but follow his charge towards Izumo. There was something strange causing her insides to knot as she watched the insightful gazes pass between Mikoto and Izumo. She felt like they had set her up, beginning with Tatara's departure. There was a good chance that Tatara and Anna were involved too, and something about that made her stifle a bitter groan of betrayal. It wasn't like her king to take her by his side like Tatara or Izumo would have, not unless they were up to something.

Misaki watched his comrades depart, focussing entirely on their absence rather than the task he was assigned. His unnaturally craned neck found itself so jarred by the swat he'd received from Izumo that he yelped at the sharp snap to twinge in his cramped muscles.

"Don't be nosy," Izumo commanded quietly.

"Eh!? Yes sir…"

* * *

Nothing about what was happening seemed typical, and it made Neirah feel uneasy. It wasn't the first time that she had been left alone with her king, but something about the circumstance and the silence falling between them as he led them down the street was unnerving. It reminded her of the first time Tatara had arranged their company. From where she'd wandered a step or two behind him, she subtly raised her eyes to peek his unyielding expression before lowering them like she thought it was disrespectful to pry. Although Mikoto had never given her a reason to feel beneath him, she did, and being asked to his side alone made her feel like a child separated from her rowdy friends for a scolding.

Finally, she couldn't linger in peace any longer, so she offered a soft coo of advice. "King-sama? If you want to find Anna and Tat-chan, I know the places where she likes to-"

"I think you already know that's not what we're doing."

His flat announcement hadn't helped her nerves in the least. Instead, she found her steps ceasing entirely, leaving her wild azure gaze to watch him continue to walk without her following in his footsteps. "I-"

A gentle smile curled Mikoto's lips to consider the first time he'd intervened in her life. She'd come a long way from the girl who panicked at the mere thought of confronting her fears, but there were still some similarities. "If you stay back there, you're gonna get left behind, don't you think?"

She was the shadow of her mighty king, the dark trace of his divine wrath that lurked through the streets in his wake. She liked the way that felt. It gave her purpose and reminded her of her role in their clan. An invitation to stand by his side rather than marvel at his magnificence from in the shade he'd cast was strange. He didn't pose his statement as a threat, or a command, but her feet felt compelled to move, and they did. Lengthening her stride, she caught up to him with her heart lumped in her throat.

The silence resumed for another while before finally, Mikoto interrupted her anxious thoughts while the wind raced past them. "You sure you're not too cold?" he murmured casually. "You complain about that a lot, considering you have my powers."

Neirah's cheeks dusted in a pale rose as she dropped her gaze towards her toes and whispered her timid retort. "O-oh… that."

After closing his eyes, Mikoto hummed a thoughtful sigh filled with fatigue. "Kusanagi's pretty worried about you," he divulged. "Says your powers might be unstable."

Shocked from her guilty thoughts, Neirah jerked her attention directly towards Mikoto's shoulders. "U-unstable? How?"

"Tell me what it feels like," he strategically interrupted. "My flame. What is it to you?"

Neirah raised her hands at her front, examining empty, upturned palms through a knotted brow as if the consideration vexed her.

"You're taking too long."

When he interrupted her deep consideration, she vocally yelped and drew her hands to her chest. "I'm sorry," she prattled worrisomely. "I didn't mean to."

"Try again," he ordered gently. "This time, just say the first thing that comes to mind."

Neirah's brow wrinkled again like she was going to consider the question thoroughly, but then the knot unbound, leaving a tender smile on her lips. "Then, it's hope." She clamped her teeth around the inside of her cheek and let herself think about it some more after she'd satisfied his inquiry with a diligent response. "A powerful, unyielding hope that tomorrow will be better than yesterday."

Mikoto didn't look at her, but his lips did curl into a triumphant smirk. "Yeah, I thought you might say something like that."

Hearing him speak about her situation so casually had a small bit of her courage returning. She lengthened her steps to reach his side, pressuring him to explain himself. "I don't understand," she murmured. "Have I done something wrong?"

Mikoto addressed her concern with the slow shake of his head. "Unlike some people, I don't think there's a right or wrong way to wield power," he admitted candidly. "Some people see it as a tool, some, a cage, and to others, it's just a part of who they are." He finally turned over his shoulder to consider the wonder on her face. "Sorry, kid. I dunno how comforting that is, though."

Neirah let a weak smile find her lips as she diverted her bashful features. "So, in other words, it's not my power that's unstable… it's…"

"But that's why you're takin' this trip." He tipped his gaze toward the sky, watching the jet stream of an aircraft line the crystal-clear blue. "You've gotta settle your business on your own terms, just like you have to figure out what that fire in your eyes burns for."

Neirah stilled, barely keeping her feet mobile when his words struck her with realization. "Y-you… How did you-?"

_Hn_. Stopping in his tracks, Mikoto turned his wry smile to face where she'd arrested. "King's intuition," he reminded her softly. They stood off in the quiet street for a moment, letting the wind whisper through the tunnelling infrastructure around them before Mikoto finally spoke again. "You need to see it for yourself, what makes you burn. That should keep the cold away."

_The world is so cold, but our fire keeps me warm._

"Once you do that, you'll know where it is you really belong." With an even sigh, Mikoto slowly turned away from her and let his eyes follow the wisps of wind raising street dust towards the vast yonder. "Y' know, there're some people who say you move like the wind," he informed her softly. Realizing who he was speaking to caused him to snort and drop his sardonic expression. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

"I think… it's because I move quickly."

"You do, don't you? And you never stay in one spot long," he concurred rhetorically. "Especially when you know what you're after, and then nothin' can stop you."

She ground her molars together and tried to keep from trembling like she was facing an undecided goodbye. "King-sama…"

"How many times am I gonna have to tell you not to call me that?"

All she wanted to do was assure him that he would have a thousand more opportunities to continue once she'd returned, but she couldn't get her jaw to unbind. In the end, only meek whimpers emitted in hushed tones.

"So, you're wind and fire," he muttered confidently. "But flames don't whimper like that. They should roar, right, Red Lion?"

"Lioness…"

_Hm?_ Mikoto rotated and locked his gaze with the hesitancy of hers.

Neirah's lips began to tremble as her indecision choked her words. "Lioness because… I'm a woman."

When his sharp amber gaze softened almost derisively, his reassuring grin caused her to shiver. "Does it matter?" Once he had stricken her into silence, he'd dismissed himself from the conversation by turning and lumbering away.

"Burn," he muttered coarsely upon departure. "Burn until the cold can't touch you." Whereas the fire inside him was no better than a beast to be contained, Neirah made her flame a part of her. She faced a lot of uncertainty in her near future, a fate that may be cruel enough to steal her from the family she'd found. But, he knew, if she saw the freedom to dance on the whirlwind carrying her through life, she would return stronger, one step closer to making fate her own. "And then, burn some more."

Alarmed that she felt like she had somehow let him down, Neirah was frantic to try and form words, to express what his understanding meant to her. It was simple, and forward, but the words seared into her heart and caused her chest to ache with devoted purpose. "King-sama, wait!" she begged. "I just want you to know-"

"Tell me when you get back."

His certainty startled her into remaining rooted when all she wanted was to chase after him and beg him to hear her heart.

Mikoto didn't connect their gazes again, because something told him that he would have plenty of opportunities in the future. "I don't have a real great attention span for these kinds of things."

After his final remark, he'd left her standing in the quiet street with her chest aching and eyes burning with tears she couldn't let fall. All the while, she lingered listening to the wind whistle through the structures on either side of an empty street, considering the unlikelihood that he could predict her inevitable return. Then again, the intuition of a king was uncanny, at times.


	24. Kalon

**Kalon**

* * *

_**April 7th, 2010 9:13 pm**_

Although Tatara hadn't picked up his guitar in a little over a month, there was still a song in his heart as he fussed with the long-stem flowers he began to assemble in their vase. The arrangement was sitting in the centre of the table featuring red and black roses with golden accents like bows coated in way too much glitter for Izumo to bother with styling. That was why Tatara was the one working on setting them properly in their crystal flute, humming through the calm smile on his face as he trimmed the stalks. It was a slightly gothic arrangement, but it suited their hunter perfectly and put a bright smile on her face when she received it earlier that evening.

"Tat-chan, what is it you're up to over there?" With arms stuffed in the flannel shirt that she was pulling over her head, Neirah poked around the corner of her bedroom doorway with a speculative twist in her face. Wide eyes filled with panic when she watched him snip the end of the thorny branch with a pair of scissors, and he'd done it so casually. "Hey! Leave my flowers alone, you beast!"

_'Beast indeed_,' she thought as he turned his pure and loving smile her way. His sunny beam remained as he clicked the scissor blades together in the empty air like the act might have been menacing.

"Don't worry. I'm just putting them in water," Tatara defended with an innocent chuckle. "I thought they might display better if they sat at different levels, though, so I'm trimming the ones around the outside." He leaned away from his work and tilted his head, fluffing the full blooms on the side of the vase before straightening their bow. "See? That looks great! I think I might have a knack for this."

With a dull groan, Neirah shuffled out from her cover and dropped her hand on the top of his head, causing him to wince with the pressure of her fingers digging into his scalp. "If my flowers all die because you assaulted them, it will mean serious maiming for you."

Tatara opened one eye and peeked up at her sheepishly. "It's fine!" He laughed when she snorted derisively to hide the optimism fighting to spread across her tight lips. "Besides, I would maim myself if I ruined your birthday bouquet. It took Kusanagi-san forever to find black roses here in town."

Dropping behind where he sat cross-legged on the floor, Neirah draped her arms over his front and rested her chin on his shoulder. Her cheeks coloured with signs of her shame to consider the thorough doting she'd received from her band of brothers earlier that day, and she was still trying to scrub the tiny ruby lip-print of their princess from her cheek. She felt a little guilty for making them work extra hard to encourage her to be happy, but she appreciated the effort. "I didn't mean to threaten you," she murmured. "They're just special to me, that's all. I know they're going to die eventually, but I just want to enjoy how beautiful they are for as long as I can."

When Tatara turned his enlightened gaze her way, her pigment deepened in intensity, but she didn't meet his invitation. "Wow, Neirah… I think that's the most positive thing I've ever heard you say."

She sheepishly slid away from him to escape his scrutiny, slapping her palms on her thighs as she climbed. "W-well… I learned from the best."

Tatara's brow creased with disdain as he watched her float around their cluttered abode. Despite her feigned hopefulness, he caught the secrets she was trying to hide. He supposed it wasn't strange that her mind had drifted to thoughts of the people responsible for her birth on such a day; a mother no longer in this world and a father soon to follow. "Is it your dad?"

After circling back towards him, Neirah's expression remained downtrodden as she slipped her fingers over the satiny petals of her gift. "Mari-san mentioned that his condition worsened the other day," she admitted vaguely. "I was hoping that maybe… the anticipation of seeing his daughter again after so long might inspire him to get better, but…"

Tatara climbed, approaching his friend to lay his arms over her shoulders and touch his lips to the back of her head. Even though he felt her body stiffen beneath his tender embrace, he didn't release her or dampen his smile. "You're not cursed." As soft as his whisper was, it held an air of command warning her not to challenge his positivity. "Anna-chan is right, you know. Lion-chan is brave. We'll get through this."

"I don't feel brave," she whispered morosely. "I would almost rather believe that it was all my fault… about my mother, and everything else. It would make it easier to forgive him for what came afterwards. He didn't have to get Himari-san involved. He could have taken responsibility for his daughter."

"Try to be more forgiving, Nei-chan," Tatara gently reminded her. "You have your mom's eyes, so it must have been hard for him to look into them after he lost her."

"I know," she muttered bleakly. "And I can't imagine what that might be like for him. I look so much like her that I'm afraid when he finally sees me in his weakened state, he might look right through me. It's taking all I have not to call off the whole thing."

With a victoriously knowing chuckle that rivalled the sinister, Tatara released her and weaved to one side. "Kusanagi-san thought you might say something like that."

In response, Neirah rolled her eyes. "_Of course_, he did. He likes to remind me of my shortcomings."

Tatara kept his smile cheerful as he locked his kind umber gaze on Neirah, a long envelope flopped out between his fingers and encouraging her to receive its contents. "Here. Take it." He could tell that she didn't want to. He could see the cautious gleam in her eyes suffering intimidation from the delicate offering like she understood its meaning. "Come on," he whined spiritedly. "There's no going back now. Even if you burn it, it won't change what's been done. And trust me, you'll feel way worse if you do that this time."

Hesitant fingers reached for the envelope, and when she felt the weight of the cardstock inside, her heart sank. "Tat-chan… this is…"

"Happy birthday, Nei-chan." Tatara eagerly nodded as she began to open the packet to reveal the condemning gesture. "Kusanagi-san wanted me to wait and give that to you later once we were at home because he didn't want to risk upsetting you around the others. He figured it would have a pretty big impact."

Neirah held one set of fingers against her lips to stifle her gasp as the other clutched her return trip airline tickets to fly her to the heart of the Nagasaki Prefecture.

"See? Now you have to go." Tatara's tone softened with understanding as he watched indigo eyes gloss with a river of tears waiting to fall. "He was worried about you taking the train, and when I told him you were going to dip into your college savings to pay your way, well, he did this. He wanted to make sure you knew that we supported you no matter what. Maybe we can't go with you, and I know you don't like talking about it around the others, but we're still going to be there cheering you on in spirit. That's never going to change." Tatara flinched when Neirah suddenly fell to her knees like she was faint, and his demeanour flopped immediately to worry. "Nei-chan, are you okay?"

"I'm alright," she whispered in a choked tone. Hysterics didn't strike her, but she was made dizzy by the well of emotion. "I'm just a little overwhelmed, is all. So much has happened recently…"

Kneeling in front of her, Tatara laid his hands in his lap without intruding too much on her suffering. He softened his voice with a kind understanding in hopes that they could continue their conversation. "Kusanagi-san really wants to see you go to school, and he says that you should keep the money you've saved. But he knows this is important to you too. We all do."

Neirah continued to stare at the tickets in her hand even as her second raised to wipe the stray tears escaping one of her eyes. "The reason it means so much to me is things like this," she admitted weakly. "For Onii-san, and King-sama… They deserve better than to be burdened by my doubt."

Tatara's tone cracked worrisomely. "None of us see you as a burden-"

"It doesn't matter this time," she calmly interrupted. "Just over a year ago, King-sama helped me to realize how strong I could be. I owe it to him to use that strength now to fight this battle on my own."

Her statement seemed to amuse her contented roommate. "And you have the nerve to chastise Wolf-kun for standing out."

Neirah twisted her face into a bashful pout. "Wolf-kun is different. He isn't nearly as damaged as I am."

"Do you know that?"

"I do."

"Liar." Even as playful pats were mauling him, Tatara's smile remained optimistically fixed. "Okay, okay. I know, you and Wolf-kun are close. But still- It's hard for everyone just to sit and wait quietly for the outcome. It made your birthday celebration this year kind of awkward, didn't it?"

She surrendered a fond smile before falling into his lap with an exhausted huff. "Only Yata made things awkward, but that doesn't seem much different than any other day."

"That's true, isn't it?" he sang.

"He's fine around me when he doesn't think about it too much, but I get the feeling that he does more of that then he lets on. Only, he does it after he's already said something brash." A faint groan emitted from deep within her chest as her grim expression examined the homey clutter of their apartment. They had collected a lot of meaningless odds and ends over their years together. "It's things like that I'll miss the most when I'm away," she whispered feebly. "Or Chitose's clinginess, or Rikio's laughter. I think I'll even miss Fushimi-san's bad attitude."

Because Neirah's gaze diverted, Tatara let his smile fade. "Don't be silly," he nearly whispered. "You won't be gone for long."

Neither of them wanted to dwell too deeply on the length of silence extending between them after his remark. "I'll miss this the most." She closed her eyes, drawing her hand towards her face as she nestled into his lap for comfort, delighting in the gentle comb of his fingers against her scalp. "Roommate snuggles are the best snuggles."

Her cute whinge encouraged his smile to return. "That's why you have to come back soon," he cheerily observed. "Without this, you would be too irritable to face society and who knows what kind of trouble you'd get into."

"I'd probably just burn everything in sight," she stated bluntly. "King-sama says that I can."

"I don't think that's a healthy attitude for you _or_ King to have," he teased. "Now look, your birthday isn't over yet, so don't get too comfortable, okay?" Quickly checking the time, Tatara crawled out from beneath her and offered his hands for her to fill. "Come on, Lion-chan. There's somewhere we have to go."

After accepting his aid in drawing her upright, she cocked a brow at him skeptically. "Go? At this hour?" She watched incredulously as he crossed the room and grabbed their coats. "But we already ate at Kusanagi-san's."

"True," he sang. "But I had something else planned for after we were alone."

Neirah snorted and allowed him to feed her arms through the sleeves of her leather. "Tat-chan, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think you were picking up Chitose-kun's bad habits too. I don't need to text Onii-chan my safe word, do I?"

"Very funny," he pestered. "But no. I actually wanted to do this last year, but with you spending so much time with everyone else..."

Neirah seemed to startle at the sour memory of a time where they began to drift apart, and her heart began to sink. "O-oh that…" She straightened her collar and diverted her culpable expression. "I was trying to forget."

"Well, memories only last if you cherish them and protect them." He didn't seem distracted by the way Neirah startled to hear him speak so casually about her uncertainty. "You keep the ones alive that make you smile and forget the ones that make you sad." He raised his fond beam with complete reassurance. "So, that tells me that you made precious memories with the others during that time even if we didn't see each other much."

Even though she fought it, she couldn't keep her wavy smile from forcing her lips into an awkwardly appreciative grin. She truly believed that her best friend was the most beautiful person in the entire world.

Interrupting her thoughts, Tatara laughed positively and raised his hand into the air with an enthusiastic cheer. "But now that I've got you all to myself let's go!"

She allowed him to push her through their front door, groaning slightly to the suspicious twist in his manner. When he paused only momentarily after dismissing her to grab something from the table that sat previously concealed beneath their clothing, she wrinkled her nose and attempted to catch a glimpse. "Ah, Tat-chan? If you're the one who knows where we're going, shouldn't you lead?"

He seemed aloof as he locked the door, contemplating his thoughts. "You think I should?"

Her tone flattened with feigned impatience. "I really don't see any other way to do this."

Once Tatara finally stepped ahead, he guided them down too many flights of stairs, out of their home, down the street, and towards a large park lining the waterway to meander through Shizume City. The walkway was paved and acted as a scenic bike trail that stretched through the gardens and over the bridge crossing the channel. It was a popular flower viewing site during the beginning of April when the blossoms were at their fullest. When they drew nearer, she realized that was what he'd taken an interest in that night.

Even after the blossoms fell, Neirah carried their simulated scent all year round on her collar. She loved flowers, new flowers in particular. There was something magical about the dawn of a new day, a bright, optimistic beginning. The petals unfolded and soaked up the light of life knowing full well they would soon serve their purpose and fall to the wind, but that didn't stop them from shining while they drifted. Something about the sight always humbled her and filled her with courage. It replicated the way she felt when she was by Tatara's side. Truthfully, she couldn't think of any better way to spend her Wednesday evening.

At first, she was moderately concerned, because the last time she had visited that particular park near to their apartment complex, she was with Gin. It was difficult for her to determine whether she would be delighted or livid if forced to face her friend after months of not speaking with him.

After their fallout in front of HOMRA at the end of January, they hadn't spoken a word, and she felt terrible. It became even worse after she bumped into him at the mall across from the station, not once acknowledging his interference with their struggle. Tatara would pick up on something so subtle, but as he walked towards the trees alongside her, he seemed distracted. The guilty smile was still painted on his face as radiantly as it ever was, but he didn't seem to instigate any further. Reflecting on a moment of consideration, she realized that he was fidgeting with an old-fashioned device between his hands.

Calming to the realization that he hadn't been foolish enough to set up such a complicated meeting, she tilted her head to the side and tried to get a better look at the gadget he was cramming upside down batteries into mid-stride. "Ah, Tat-chan? You have them in the wrong way. The minus sign goes up against the little spring."

"Hah! That explains a lot!" He laughed despite himself and corrected the alkaline sources until the clunky artifact hummed to life. "There we go!"

Neirah couldn't help but snicker lightly at his theatrics. "What is that thing you're playing with over there, anyway? It looks like-"

"It's an old movie camera," he proclaimed. "I know how much you love this time of year when the sakura blossoms are in bloom, so it's perfect that your birthday falls right in the middle of the season. I figured we'd sneak by after the traffic settled in the park to have our own hanami!"

Neirah's expression knotted as she attempted to decide whether it should be entertained or concerned. "This sounds oddly romantic."

Tatara turned to face her with a mortified look on his face. "Do I sense a trace of revulsion in your voice? I didn't think it embarrassed you that much to be seen with me- OW! Nei-chan, that hurt!"

From where Neirah had turned her nose up and closed her eyes, she folded her arms over her chest with a grim huff. "You say the most ridiculous things sometimes."

Tatara snickered and set up the viewer of his camera so that he could see the world through the dusty lens. "I don't see a rule stating that a guy can't take his best friend in the entire world on a completely platonic romantic walk through the park." Noticing the dust on the end of his lens distorting the beautiful nighttime view of the cherry trees, Tatara lowered his camera and casually polished the glass with the front of his shirt. "Ahh, dusty," he murmured calmly.

"There we go." With a satisfied smile, he whisked the recorder from side to side, watching the beautiful soft pink petals fall like snow around them in the bright moonlight. After swinging left, then right, and checking the moon's reflection on the ripples dotted with sakura blooms beside their footpath, he redirected the camera towards his flustered friend. "And also, Nei-chan looks beautiful with sakura petals in her hair."

His initial statement had so stunted Neirah that she remained in shock when he redirected his camera her way. She had always considered Tatara one of the most influential people in her life, but she had never heard him say anything that indicated to her that he held her in the same regard. To listen to him admit it had caused a knot to bind her insides, and her gaze lingered on the camera, knowing that he was just on the other side. All she could see was his smile, up until he slipped to one side of the device and exposed the mischievous twinkle in his eye. "And look, she's even prettier when her cheeks are as pink as the trees."

As she slipped back into reality, Neirah's blush deepened, and she began to bat away the lens intently focussing on her. "Tat-chan, you'd better not be recording!"

"Why else would I have brought a camera with us?"

"You're about ten seconds from maiming!"

"Ah, alright, Lion-chan! I'll stop. I promise."

With a low growl, Neirah watched the recording light click off before stealing the contraption entirely to examine it. "You and your twisted assortment of hobbies," she teased callously. "It's such a clunky unit. What on earth made you think that _this_ was a good idea?"

He couldn't help but laugh delightedly and itch his nape. "You did, actually." She didn't seem pleased when she turned to glower at him, still in a tizzy, but he continued regardless. "Do you remember that night you were sick? Everyone came over, and we made you your favourite soup to help you feel better."

Despite her fond recollection, there was still a bitter rumble in her voice to speak about the occurrence. "How could I forget? You boys completely ruined my expectations of miso soup, and I've never been able to make it that good again."

Tatara flashed a hint of sheepish guilt before dismissing her abrasion as teasing. "You were pretty tired that night, so you didn't remember much of it. That got me thinking. If I had some way to record everything, I'd be able to show it to you instead."

"But you're such a good storyteller," she interjected. "Just imagining all of you standing around a pot trying to make soup puts a pretty memorable image in my head."

"Ah, but it was so much more than that! Everyone worked really hard to make it the best it could be," he refuted passionately. "Kamamoto-kun was trying to taste test, but Yata-chan kept getting in his way, so he swatted him with the bamboo spoon. And oh! Dewa-kun tried to put siracha in it, so that started this whole ordeal."

"You still didn't tell me how Dewa-kun ended up with the couch," she pried. "I mean, up until my memory goes blank, Fushimi-san and I were sitting there."

"See?!" Tatara had wholly dismissed her enquiry for justifying his ambition. "If I had of had this back then, I could have let you watch it for yourself once you were feeling better!"

Neirah's expression dropped as she checked his face for sincerity. "But why couldn't you just use your phone?"

Turning his nose away from her interrogation, he puffed out a disappointed sigh. "It's just not the same. I can't see anything so modern as a hobby."

"Even though they're practically the same thing?"

"Exactly!" he established. "It's like when we play cards. You could play it on your phone, but it loses so much of its charm when your fingers aren't sticking to the ones Kamamoto played after he spilled soda on them."

Neirah released a soft and agreeable coo as she considered his facts. "And, I suppose, it would probably hurt if Chitose-kun threw a phone at you when he lost instead of his losing hand."

"Now you're getting it!" Tatara humbled and drew the camera closer, carefully resting his hand on it as his smile faded. He took a step towards the edge of their path, thoroughly dusting the pearl petals from where the breeze had delivered the buds to the surface of his new tool. He didn't want to admit that a small piece of his heart was worried that there was a chance Neirah might be leaving them for good when she ventured to Nagasaki. He supposed a part of him had worried about that from the start, and what he truly wanted was to remember how beautiful her smile was.

"And half of what makes the memories special is how they're made, right?" He tried to force his smile to return in force so that he didn't dampen Neirah's spirits. "And they're even better when everyone is involved. You can't be involved when you're attached to your PDA all the time."

With a soft sigh, Neirah quietly turned away and watched the lovely view surround them like they found themselves transported to a mystical world high above her troubles. Tatara had always had that effect on her. It was true. Not a single one of her cherished memories had anything to do with a phone, but that might have been because she rarely carried the device in the first place.

"I'm a little worried about Anna-chan, though."

_Hmn?_ Suddenly, Neirah spun to face him as he seated himself on a lonely bench looking deep in thought, and her voice was faint as she encouraged him to continue. "A-Anna? Why?"

Even as his smile remained, his brow creased with concern. "Because she can't see any colour other than red. Watching colourless videos like these might give her a headache." He tipped his gaze towards the dark water trickling past, offering them a peaceful soundtrack in the quiet park. "That must mean… that her memories are different than ours too. They're red memories. That's why I try to make her meals and desserts that turn out red, so she can remember how everything tastes. I mean, could anyone find a grey supper appetizing?"

"I know it might seem insignificant, but sometimes little things like that can make all the difference. That's why I try really hard, and Anna-chan seems to appreciate it." Tatara's smile was mild as he stared into the gentle ripples, his thoughts rampant as he laid his camera in his lap. "She always talks about our red, HOMRA's red. It makes me wonder what she sees when she looks at us. Would it be the same as what this video recorder captures? Or are those red memories something that only she can see?" He lowered his gaze, dusting the recorder's surface with a steady palm. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't encouraging either. Then, finally, Neirah broke it in a way he'd never thought possible.

"I don't think it has anything to do with what she sees." Neirah's interruption was tender as she shifted across the walkway and seated herself next to her friend. "I mean, maybe we do look different through her eyes, but we're also the same, and I think that's what she's talking about when she calls it _our red_. It's all the things that we share, including the smiles." With a small grin, she upturned her palm at her front, observing it as it came to life with the calm dance of the fire to rise from her skin. Two years ago, she would have never dreamed that such a phenomenon was possible, but now, she couldn't imagine her life without it.

"Our red, HOMRA's red, is something you can't see. It's something that we feel with our hearts. It's what connects every last one of us to our king, and him to us." She curled her fingers into her palm until the flames had smothered before bending her wrist and raising it between her breasts. Resting it tightly against her HOMRA insignia, she continued. "Red is just a filter," she whispered. "It's the smile we keep in our hearts. It doesn't matter what colour the memories are, because the light of that fire will always keep us warm."

"At least, that's how I feel." With a bashful hum, she smiled weakly and turned to face her comrade. "That's what Kusanagi-san means when he tells us that our marks aren't just on our skin. It's taken me a while to figure it out, but now I understand." Reminiscing on the day she and Anna had danced with a stranger, her heart ached to recall a similar sentiment. "I thought Anna-chan looked so discouraged the day she looked at my mark like she wanted one of her own, but it might be that she saw it the way it was supposed to be all along." Her expression dimmed with disdain. "Thinking back on it now, I probably sounded so superficial to her..."

Soon, her smile faded entirely, and there was desperation in downtrodden azure eyes that begged his reassurance. "That's why I decided to go to Nagasaki and visit my father. I need to learn for myself whether or not I bring everyone around me nothing but pain. I need to know if I'm capable of being the type of person I want to be."

"I've lived with you for two years now," Tatara quietly defended. "Wouldn't I have noticed if you hurt me?"

With a gentle sigh, Neirah diverted her gaze and balled her fists in her lap. "Don't I, though?" she whispered despondently. "You mentioned the first time you wanted to bring me here, and where our relationship was at that time. Around then, Anna-chan told me that it made you sad."

"Well, but that was-"

"My pain is your pain, your tears are my tears," she reminded him. "Maybe it isn't as critical as life or death, but I know that it affects you all when I'm like this. And…" She lowered her voice to a dull whisper. "It affects Okazaki-san too."

Concern flashed in Tatara's eyes to consider her words. "Have you two talked since that day in front of Kusanagi-san's bar?"

She slowly shook her head.

"I see…" he murmured sadly. "But it can't be easy on him either, can it? He's been a part of your life for so long. Much longer than any of us." When Neirah didn't take his baited conversation, he sighed and turned away. When he did, he caught notice of the lights marking the pass of the Silver King in the night sky. It moved slowly to his comprehension and as a tiny spec of lighted hope in the air that night. If somebody wasn't looking closely enough, they might mistake it for a satellite. "I wonder… if he makes wishes on the Silver King's airship too."

_Hmn?_ Neirah tilted her curiosity his way.

Tatara pulled out his PDA and flipped over the screen. "I've noticed this app around town every now and then. I was curious, so I decided to download it and see for myself." He tilted towards her and let her take a peek at the screen flashing an image of a burning candle. "It's a 'Candle' app." After initiating the app on his phone, he held it out towards the dark sky with a mocking grin. "They say that if you're going through a hard time, you should hold this app up to the sky. Then, the Silver King's airship will come down and pick you up."

Neirah seemed bemused by his explanation. "Tat-chan? Are you telling stories again?"

Tatara laughed brightly and slouched in his seat, retracting his beacon. "Of course not!" he brayed. "They really believe that something will happen."

"Okaaay," she instigated. "And what happens if the First King _does_ pick them up."

Tatara's chuckle grew sardonic. "It might be nice to know these things, hm?"

"Very creepy," she derided. She popped her hand against Tatara's brow to check for a fever, causing him to retreat and shake his bangs into place. "Maybe you're coming down with a fever."

"I'm telling you, it's the truth!"

Neirah's expression softened as she turned her bright eyes back into the sky with a hearty sigh. "Well, maybe he does…" she whispered. "Maybe the First King himself will knock on our door and make me apologize to Okazaki-san one day." Her gaze narrowed on the sight of the ship, her body tightening with a sense of unrest similar to the one she felt the last time she and Tatara had caught it passing overhead.

"But it's strange, don't you think? That the Silver King sees tiny flames and automatically thinks that they need help. I mean, it's almost insulting." Neirah's gaze tapered like she resented the man who looked down on them like she looked down on the mortals from her past. "Maybe they just want to burn. And I don't think… that there's anything wrong with that." She couldn't help but resent the mysterious man in the sky, and maybe that was because a part of her doubted that he existed. "Do they actually need help? Or do they just need someone to burn with?"

Tatara began to fidget with the camera in his lap, carefully overseeing Neirah's sudden shift in manner. It was something he was seeing more of in recent days approaching the fated meeting between her and her father. There was a hopeful light inside that wanted to flourish, but there always seemed to be a shadow chasing her back into the cold dark that she loathed. It was his hope for her that she would face her fears in Nagasaki and finally discard her feelings of shame towards her past, letting the sun shine on her withered purpose.

Luckily, she had managed to overcome a lot of obstacles during their time together, and he would go so far as to argue that she was an entirely different person than what he had met in the alley two years before. Regardless of how different or similar, she was still his cherished friend, and no matter what she decided, he wanted the best for her.

Still, there were some days where he saw the skittish beast in her eyes huddling next to Mikoto's flame for warmth in a cold world. She was afraid to laugh too loud, to love too passionately, and to lose everything that she found in the place she called home. He spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to prove to her that everything she knew and loved would always be there for her when she needed it the most, but it seemed like nothing he did would solidify that truth. The only way she would believe that he would always be there to protect her smile was if he stayed by her side forever. So that was what he planned to do.

Eventually, and rather suddenly, Tatara straightened with an eager grin. "Let's stop talking about such boring things like flying kings and Okazaki-kun," he proclaimed. "It's your birthday today, Nei-chan! Let's do something special!"

Neirah cocked a brow but didn't immediately liven as her sardonic smirk crept onto her unwilling face. "What could be any more special than spending this beautiful evening out with my best friend in the entire world?" When Tatara's face flushed bashfully over his smile, she couldn't help but blush in unison. It turned out, not just his positivity was contagious.

After considering his humility, she was encouraged to flash him a kind smile filled with fondness. "I want to be like you." Her gentle proclamation chased a curious hum of response from her roommate. "I want to smile through the hard times, and invite new people into my life without the fear that I'll lose them." She lowered her eyes towards the walkway beneath their feet, where they left footprints in the cherry petals like they were snow. "But I'm afraid that would make me even more vulnerable than I already am… and… wouldn't that also make me weak?" She heaved a sad sigh. "I can't protect King-sama if I'm weak. So, I need to know… if I can be strong too."

Tatara didn't shy away from her direct jolt of attention when he chuckled lightly to deride her. "Then do you really want to be like me?" he teased. "I'm a pretty bad example because I'm not very strong, but I still do what I can." After giving his new toy an affectionate rub, he raised his fond gaze back to Neirah's with a broadening smile. "But you're different, Nei-chan. You've always been strong, and smart too. So, I don't think it will matter either way."

Her smile was feeble as she struggled desperately to comprehend his logic. "You say those things so casually."

"Well, it's true," he sang. "Remember when I said your vibe was like King's? That's how I know you'll be great because King is great too. You're both hunters, remember? So, you won't stop until things are right. That's why all we can do is support you no matter what, and that's just what I'm going to do!"

Once Tatara was sure that he wasn't going to ruin her birthday by encouraging the tears he saw lingering to fall, he locked his sights on her glossy gaze and persisted. "And I think you've forgotten how much you've already opened up since we found you. Now you smile and laugh with us all the time. Sure, you're cautious around people outside of HOMRA, but that's just because you're still sorting things out."

Surrendering to his devotion, Neirah sighed and lowered her head with an embarrassed blush. "Tat-chan will always be my prince," she reasoned soundly. "No one can ever tell me otherwise."

Tatara straightened with a triumphant snicker. "So come, fair valkyrie!" After lowering his voice from the regal tone to announce his eagerness a moment prior, he raised his camera in front of his meek expression, careful not to click on the recording light until she was entirely agreeable. "Let's make our very first red memory."

Neirah's expression was wry as it flattened with mistrust. "Tat-chan… I'm not really in the mood to be on camera."

"No, just think about it! This will be the first video we make together!" he rushed out enthusiastically. "We'll hide it somewhere special in our apartment and try to forget about it. We'll give it a few years and then dig it out to watch it again with all our friends!"

"I really don't think-"

"Annnd, we're rolling!" he announced. His narrowly stifled giggle was the first thing their viewers would hear as he began to speak under his breath. "Heh… I've always wanted to say that."

Neirah groaned and looked into the camera lens like it was judging her every move. Her lips tightened as her fleeting gaze tried to escape the pressure of his attention, and she shivered. "It's watching me…"

"Don't think of it that way," Tatara teased. "Think of it as looking into the future at all of our friends back at HOMRA. Say, ten or so years from now."

"Ten years from now," she muttered softly to herself. The consideration couldn't help but make her surrender a hesitant smile. "Alright then… Ah, hello everyone." She gave an awkward wave that caused Tatara to giggle, encouraging her to provide him with a firm swat in retribution.

"Ow!"

With a deep and settling breath, Neirah bravely faced the future and continued. "So, if we're watching this, I suppose ten years have passed."

_Back then, we were so sure that we would always be together…_


	25. Kaishaku

**Kaishaku**

* * *

_**July 24th, 2010**_

From where Misaki sat with his head resting in folded arms against the table, his vexed leer narrowed on the sight of Rikio walking through the bar entrance with heavy baggage in his arms. Once he was out of sight, Misaki's gaze snapped toward the sound of the door opening a second time. His eyes tapered even thinner to watch Neirah wheel a medium-sized suitcase on the same path that Rikio had walked, disappearing into the back shortly after him.

"Anna-chan, wait! I'll get the door!"

Suddenly, Misaki's unenthusiastic demeanour snapped his slack posture to life when he jolted his attention to the sight of Anna struggling to make her way through the doorway with what appeared to be Neirah's carry-on luggage. Even though it was the smallest piece, it was still difficult for the delicate Strain to manage on her own, no matter how helpful she was trying to be.

Misaki quickly scampered to his feet to the sound of Anna's exasperated grunts, and before Tatara could push past her to open up the door, Misaki had done it for her. "Here, Anna-chan, let me get that, alright?" Despite what seemed to be her resistance, Misaki retrieved the bag from her arms, nearly toppling over in surprise for the weight present in the burgundy duffle. "Gah! What the hell is even in this thing?!" He slung the article over his shoulder with a dismal groan, watching Anna trod off after Neirah and Rikio as Tatara joined them at HOMRA's headquarters.

Tatara's smile was cheerful as he took Misaki's side, sensing unrest within his younger clansman as wary hazel eyes watched Neirah clasp Anna's hands to cheer for their success. "I guess Nei-chan did a lot of shopping that night you ran into Okazaki and those blue clansmen," he calmly theorized. "Of course, she wanted to take all of it with her. Plus her snacks, and her jacket, even though she doesn't plan on wearing it around her father."

"Comin' through." Izumo clasped the boys' heads and parted them in front of the doorway so he could slip by, quick to shoo them away from the entrance with an irritable groan. "Pick somewhere else to chat, boys," he commanded smoothly. "Some of us have work to do."

Emitting a light growl, Misaki waddled over towards the table he had claimed to pout on before dropping the duffle onto its centre. After flopping into his reclaimed seat, he heaved a frustrated sigh and glared at the article as if it had somehow done him an offence. "Jeez, why do girls gotta pack everything they own when they go somewhere?" He batted absently at the HOMRA charm dangling from the bag's zipper before snorting his impatience with the entire situation.

"She is going for over a month," Yō reasoned, admitting he was eavesdropping. Misaki didn't startle when Yō dropped his arm around the boy's shoulders, encouraging the two to examine the duffle and imagine what it contained. It wasn't hard to tell that the two held very different expectations. "You can't expect a lady to wear the same outfit twice. Especially when she looks good in anything."

"That's the point," Misaki argued. "So why does it matter what she wears? What makes Nagasaki so special?"

Despite the taunting of his friends mocking Misaki for his resistance over her departure, he couldn't be bothered by it. He'd had a bad feeling since the day she announced that she would be making the trip, and ever since, she'd begun to change. It wasn't an overly obvious one. It was quite apparent to him that a lot of his comrades either hadn't noticed or didn't care, and either way, he was frustrated. He just couldn't escape a sense of foreboding that warned him the woman he'd finally gotten used to having around was going to return to them differently, somehow – or not at all.

Watching her smile as she chatted with Rikio, the way she rudely stuck her tongue out at Izumo for pestering her over trivialities, everything about the way she was seemed just fine to him. The way she neglected to style her wild mane didn't estrange her beauty. And the way her unpainted lashes framed her cunning leer was attractive enough around bright eyes, so it irritated him to think that half of the weight staggering their little Strain was probably makeup. Maybe she was a bit rough around the edges at times, but he'd finally gotten used to it. He'd learned to respect that she wasn't quite what he had expected.

But then he had to humble himself before the sight of lively colours flickering within cerulean irises. He'd seen things there that he wished he hadn't, something that Neirah locked away and refused to show the rest of them. They were things like weakness, fear, and tender affection that shone through occasionally when she felt enamoured by their companionship, feelings that she felt were taboo.

Though, he couldn't blame her for feeling that way after the way he'd acted upon their introductions. He'd convinced himself from the beginning that a girl had no place among them, so it was natural for him to feel guilty when he considered that she was hiding a part of herself to save face. What he wanted to know was why she had to go all the way to Nagasaki to release the pressure he watched build over her last semester at school. He couldn't comprehend why it was so difficult to accept those feelings were just as much a part of her as any other.

"You've got that stupid look on your face again."

Misaki nearly jumped out of his skin when Saruhiko joined him, and whose low drone filled with intolerance. "Don't just sneak up on me like that! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"

Saruhiko snorted and rolled his eyes before connecting gazes with his riled cohort. "You say that like I haven't been standing here for the last five minutes waiting for you to snap out of it." After peeking the sight of Neirah going over the next morning's schedule with Izumo, his gaze darkened skeptically. "Don't worry, Misaki," he instigated beneath his breath. "I'm sure there are plenty of other women out there just as messed up as Tsukiyo is."

Misaki's face immediately screwed up with humiliation. "B-baka! You make it sound like she's not comin' back!"

Despite his overall judgement of the situation, Saruhiko couldn't help letting a wry smirk twist his lips to one side upon considering Misaki's display. "Funny, you focus more on that than the thought of me insinuating that you're going to miss her when she's gone."

Tossing his balled fists by his side, Misaki elevated his voice commandingly. "Of course, I'm gonna miss her! Tsukiyo's our friend, isn't she?! So, yeah! It's gonna suck not having her around!" He immediately snapped his molars together to grind when he realized that his hands were beginning to quake. No matter how passionately he wanted to ignore the hints that Saruhiko was dropping, he couldn't deny the foreboding, cautioning him that night would be the last night they'd be together.

He lowered his gaze worrisomely, hating how quiet the room around him had become after he'd gone and made a fool out of himself. "I mean… think of all the cool stuff she's gonna miss this summer… And it's gotta be hard for her to see her dad when he's sick knowing we're not gonna be there to cheer her up…"

Realizing that Misaki's little outburst had drawn more attention than Saruhiko had bargained for made him uneasy. He wanted to snap his irritated retort, _Annoying. You're annoying her, Misaki. She doesn't need you. She doesn't need anybody. That's why she's leaving. _Instead, he offered a dim scoff and diverted his gaze, trying to keep it from meeting the intensity of Neirah's unspoken advice commanding him not to instigate the situation.

Nearby, Tatara heaved a weary sigh, his smile sad even as he attempted to keep it on his face. "That's the thing, isn't it?" he strategically interrupted. They had been trying their best not to rouse the subject for a while, appreciating that it wasn't going to be easy for Neirah to talk about, but with the lion out of the bag, he felt like it was something that needed addressing. "I don't think it's easy for any of us. We're just so used to being there for each other."

Saruhiko just stared at the floor, keeping his face locked in a void position to avoid outwardly gagging on Tatara's sentiment. As grating as Neirah could be, he couldn't imagine how she managed to live with that man. In his eyes, Tatara was like a virus, infecting everyone around him with this false sense of hopeful security. _Everything was going to be okay because friendship changes the world._ It took all Saruhiko had not to retch at the thought. No wonder Neirah needed to escape.

The silence was growing uncomfortable, so Neirah dropped her sheepish gaze from where it had encouraged silence out of Saruhiko, her expression fading nervously. "Please don't, Tat-chan," she whispered. "I've done well not to dwell on it too much over the last few months." She slowly shook her head. "So, if it's okay, I don't want to start the night before the plane leaves."

Izumo smiled quietly to himself, trying his hardest not to let the sour mood in his bar affect him too. "Listen to you guys, getting all bent outta shape," he teased. "Where's your faith in our hunter, huh? She'll be just fine." He wished Neirah's eyes hadn't looked so sad when she raised them to connect with his like they were already begging his forgiveness. Even still, he met the disappointment with a kind smile, promising that they weren't going to give up on her.

With gentle fingers, Anna reached up and tugged on Izumo's shirt, her big eyes kind as they awaited his attention. "Hm? What is it Anna-chan?"

"Onē-san is staying over so you can drive her to the airport early in the morning."

"That's right," Izumo agreed. "Why? Did you want to come? Her flight leaves pretty early."

Tilting her face and closing her eyes, Anna slowly shook her head in denial. "No. I thought that maybe everyone could stay to help Onē-san forget how nervous she is."

"Like a sleepover?" Tatara's expression was livening contagiously with his lifting spirits. "What a great idea, Anna-chan!" he cheered. "I was intending on sticking around anyway, but the more, the merrier!"

Izumo's expression brightened. "Well, now, that's not a bad idea at all," he hummed proudly. He raised his gaze to examine the still bar around him to pose his invitation. "D' you boys hear that? Anna-chan thinks we should have a sleepover right here tonight. Only rule is, you can't talk about Nagasaki."

Surprising everyone, Kōsuke was the first to offer his acceptance to Anna's cunning suggestion. "It's the weekend, so my parents shouldn't mind if I stay out." He rarely got to spend nights with their group because of his curfew, but he seemed pretty confident that he could make it work.

After catching the nervous fidgeting of Yō next to him, Masaomi smirked and cocked his head to one side. "We didn't have any plans."

"Shit," Yō groaned nervously. "Not only is Kusanagi-san gonna be supervising, but I can't smoke when Nē-chan's around."

"Sucks to be you, then, doesn't it?"

"You're _literally_ made of spite and malice."

Saburōta cut his gaze behind his sunglasses towards Yō's irrational griping. "Idiot, it's not about you. It's about makin' Onē-san feel better." It had been a few months since his last attempt, so when Saburōta bopped Yō on the top of his head, he was quick to recoil like he might suffer an attack in return.

Surprisingly enough, though, Yō didn't do much more than rub his assaulted cranium with a defeated sigh. "Yeah, guess you're right..."

Saburōta immediately straightened with a look that was way too gratified for such a trivial success. "Damn right, I am," he announced proudly.

Rikio nodded his approval with his hands folded over his chest, his smile broadening with encouragement. "Anna-chan's right," he concurred soundly. "Besides, this is the last time we're gonna see Nē-chan this summer, so we gotta make the best of it!"

By his side, Neirah reached out and poked his belly with a tender smile. "You mean I have to enjoy you while there's still some of you to enjoy?"

A sheepish Rikio tossed one hand back behind his head with an uneasy laugh, his other rubbing the area she'd assaulted. "But in a less suggestive way, I think."

"That's right." Izumo was careful to address both comments with the duality of his own, casting Rikio a glower that made the man sweat out the evocative interaction. "Because as soon as she gets back, she'll be hitting the books to catch up on all the homework I couldn't force her to do over the break."

"Like that ever helped before," Mikoto added slyly. "Even if you constantly remind her right here in town, it's still things like this that keep her from getting anything done."

From across the room, Misaki's face lit up eagerly. "Mikoto-san, you're going to be here too?"

Mikoto flopped his head towards Misaki instead of Izumo, a lazy smile painted calmly over his lethargic expression. "Where else would I be?"

Misaki wriggled with excitement before his demeanour was livening with enthusiasm. "Awesome! Count us in!"

_Tsk._

Whirling on his heels, Misaki glowered at Saruhiko from beneath a knitted brow. He had been close enough to catch the sound of Saruhiko quietly grinding his teeth like he was the only one resisting the suggestion. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing…"

"_Nothing_?" Misaki pried. "What's gotten into you lately? You always-"

"Fushimi-san?" HOMRA's vanguard immediately shot their combined attention to where Neirah approached with an inviting, yet, somewhat vulnerable smile on her face. "I forgot something back at my apartment. Would you care to accompany me there to retrieve it?"

Saruhiko's expression flattened with his tone. "Go get it yourself."

"Gah! Fushimi!?" Misaki threw his hands up with a violent hiss of surrender. "Whatever, fine, be that way!" Turning to face Neirah's tender expression caused Misaki's tone to soften accordingly, helping to converse with her properly. "I'll keep you company if you want. Seein' how Saruhiko's bein' a dick right now."

Neirah's smile broadened slightly, but her eyes remained distant and fixed on Saruhiko's attempt at denial. "Sorry, Yata. But I would prefer to take this moment to speak with Fushimi-san before I leave." Her focus didn't falter when Saruhiko shuddered in surprise, and possibly disgust, at the request emitting more like a continuation of her previous warning.

_E-eh?!_ With a mortified blush in his cheeks, Misaki turned to face Saruhiko before returning his hesitant observation towards the woman by his side. His growl was depressed, a little humiliated, and a lot rejected. "If you say so… But I don't think-"

"Fine."

Misaki's face was bound with bemusement as he whirled towards his temperamental friend. "Sure, _now_ you care. After I already said I'd do it!"

Stepping past Misaki, Saruhiko scoffed indifferently to his friend's display of ire. "Don't worry. I have no interest in trying to steal your girlfriend from you."

Continuing to stomp around, Misaki thrashed until he hoped that nobody could see how red his face had become with embarrassment. "Oi! I told you to cut that shit out!"

Ignoring Misaki's heated tantrum, Saruhiko let his gaze lock with the intensity of Neirah's. "You and Totsuka don't live far, right?"

Neirah could appreciate the thinly veiled contempt in his tone, sugar coating his resistance more than she'd expected. "This won't take long."

Misaki's stomach was in knots as he was, once again, abandoned by his best friend and the woman who repeatedly denied that anything was happening between them. He wanted to chase after them, demand that they tell him the truth about their relationship, but Saruhiko's warning was causing his feet to lock. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy her when she was bravely preparing to face the challenge ahead. It confused him to feel as if what Saruhiko said was right, and she didn't need anybody else, it seemed misplaced for her to be sad about leaving.

What was worse was that he still couldn't shake the tone in Saruhiko's voice over the past few weeks passing along a subtle warning that something wasn't right about Neirah's impending vacation. Questions raced thought his head, such as what would happen if she got herself into trouble in Nagasaki. When he first met the woman, Misaki wanted to believe that she was a ruthless killer, but a savage creature of blood and battle wouldn't yearn to comfort her father in his dying days. She wouldn't flash signs of fear in her eyes when she considered stepping away from the home that she'd found in HOMRA. But most importantly, he hadn't once heard her assure anyone that she would return.

His gaze narrowed on the sight of her leaving with Saruhiko, walking so far away from his side that someone unknowingly might assume that they were just two people passing in the same direction. He just hoped that route would lead them both back to HOMRA before the night ended.

"Hey, Yata-san!" Rikio called out enthusiastically. He passed by where Kōsuke was on his phone, explaining the situation to his parents back home. "Bandō and I are gonna go grab some snacks from the store while Totsuka and Kusanagi-san turn the back room into a movie theatre. Wanna come?"

_Hnh_? Misaki unenthusiastically turned to face their eager smiles, but he couldn't shake the apprehension from his expression. "Uh, sure, I guess," he grumbled. "Somebody's gotta keep you from eatin' them all before you get back."

"Oi!" Rikio sheepishly proclaimed over Saburōta's devious snigger.

"Chitose, I'm serious now," Izumo cautioned strictly. "Anna-chan is going to be watching them with us, so only pick out decent movies appropriate for someone her age. Maybe something with a big red dog in it."

Yō was wrought with tension as he considered the way his evening was shaping up to execute. "You're kidding, right?"

"That doesn't leave us with a lot of options, does it?" Masaomi instigated. "Isn't she ten or something?"

"Nine, I think," Yō muttered through the teeth pinching his cigarette. "At least until December."

Impatience flashed in Masaomi's expression as he watched Yō raise their lighter to the tip of his toxin. "You're really gonna try this? When we all agreed to help make Nē-chan feel better?"

After lighting his smoke, Yō snapped the lighter shut and tossed it blindly towards his friend for him to catch against his chest. "Dewa, I'm spendin' my Saturday night sleeping over at a bar that I can't drink at, supervised by the scariest chaperone known to man, next to a beautiful woman that I can't touch, and watching a buncha kid movies." He shifted his sharp sangria gaze towards his friend before offering him his open pack of cigarettes.

After only momentary consideration, Masaomi snorted and pulled out a cigarette from the box.

"S' what I thought." Yō quietly tucked the box into his pocket before exhaling his first settling puff. "Man, I can't wait 'til October."

Masaomi leaned back and tipped his sardonic grin towards the sight of his companion's distant thoughts. "You know, you could always go out without me, and I'd be okay with that."

With a quiet snort, Yō lowered his gaze in consideration before tipping an impish smirk towards Masaomi. "Sounds like a drag, if you ask me."

In the back, Izumo had pulled out a couple of boxes containing an assortment of jumbled cables heaped in a layer of dust. With a haggard cough, he passed one of them off to Mikoto and dusted his hand in front of his face to banish the remainder floating in the air. "I'm pretty sure I have a projector in here somewhere. We can hook it up to the player and just pin a sheet to the wall or somethin'."

Tatara smiled brightly with a delighted cheer as he started going through the various electronics, clumsily tangling himself in the wires during the process. "Oh wow! Look at all this! Kusanagi-san, you have so many neat things in here!"

Izumo folded his arms over his chest with a curt snort. "Yep. S' why I wrote 'Junk' on the boxes."

Upon poking his head into the room to attract Izumo's attention, Kōsuke quietly addressed the commotion. "I just got off the phone with my parents, and they said it was fine. Is there anything you want me to do to help get ready?"

Tipping his fond smile over his shoulder, Izumo nodded and approached the exit. "Yeah, actually, there is." Before leaving the three pirates behind to plunder his useless equipment, Izumo cast them a parting glance. "We'll be out front if you need us."

Anna and Tatara had been too focused on their mission, so Mikoto was the one to wave his hand casually towards his second. Izumo met the effort with a wave of his own and then disappeared around the corner.

Flashing eyes wide with wonder, Anna crept towards Tatara's treasure hunt, peeking curiously into the box alongside him as Mikoto set the next beside it and started to shift the furniture around. She immediately turned her attention towards Mikoto's offering, and when she did, a startled gasp met her lips as she quickly climbed to her feet to scamper towards his delivery.

_Huh? _Tatara turned over his shoulder to face where Anna had retreated in a fluster, a curious expression twisting his gentle features. "Ah? What did you find, Anna-chan? Is it the projector?"

Anna slowly climbed up from where she'd knelt next to the box and shook her head. "No. But I found this." She held out an old movie reel in front of her, her ruby eyes shining with interest. "This disc looks like what your new camera has in it, but this one is damaged."

Tatara's face grew enlightened with eager interest. "You're right!" he gasped. "That must mean that Kusanagi-san has a device capable of playing them!"

Mikoto looked down at the two rummaging through dust and cables as if they'd just dug up some deep-sea treasure. "So?" he rumbled bluntly. "How is that gonna help us set up movies?"

Tatara popped back out of the box with another water-damaged reel, his expression rosy with anticipation. "Well, it's not going to help right now, but I've been trying to find a projector for my camera now that I've started taking so many recordings. Nobody seems to have one." A delighted squeal caught behind his teeth as he pulled a few more pieces away from the box to uncover a functional projection unit. "Eureka! Anna-chan, you did it! You found exactly what I needed!"

A dull groan rattled in the Red King's chest as he watched the two dance around in triumph. Of course, when he said two, he meant Anna twirled slightly with a mildly relaxed expression as Tatara energetically leapt around her like a fool. "Could you two at least try to stay focussed?"

* * *

Slouched over while meandering lazily through the streets after his friends wasn't Misaki's usual style, but his thoughts had grown distant as his arm clutched his skateboard by his side. Rikio and Saburōta were fine enough company for each other, from what he could tell by their noisy laughter. They were pretty excited about the thought of spending the night with the rest of their friends, but Misaki was still facing the dread of a graver concern that he felt like none of them were acknowledging.

Maybe he did tend to overanalyze and end up making the situation worse for himself, but Neirah was right. He was somebody who cared about his friends. Now that he had a home full of them, he wanted to protect it, protect them. His lot in life had greatly improved since he'd met Suoh Mikoto, and he was happy. They all were. And to lose someone from their circle… that would make them sad.

"Yo, Yata!" Saburōta suddenly interrupted the quiet vanguard's thoughts with a boisterous holler. "What's gotten into you? You were super excited back at the bar, but now, you seem pretty bummed out."

"You're not worried about Neirah, are you?" Rikio carefully meddled. "I know she seems down right now, but she'll be okay. She's got this."

Saburōta seemed intrigued when he turned to face Rikio with a disgruntled expression beneath dark sunglasses. "Yeah, I meant to ask, when did you two get so close?"

Rikio seemed startled by the accusation in Saburōta's tone. "Hah? What do you mean by that?"

Scoffing impatiently, Saburōta hitched one hand on his hip as the other flopped out nonchalantly beside him. "Aside from Totsuka-san, you're the only one she calls by their first name. Hell, I have a hard enough time getting her to call me by a name I got. She's always makin' up stuff all on her own."

Rikio seemed flustered by what he perceived as an accusatory tone on Saburōta's tongue. "T-that's not true! There's Anna-chan too!"

With a dull snort, Saburōta diverted his attention and flapped his hands out dismissively. "Yeah, but Anna doesn't count."

Cocking a brow with piqued interest, Rikio let his sound examination consider Saburōta's provocation. "Wait, where're you goin' with this?"

Rotating to face Rikio a second time, Saburōta's tone hardened matter-of-factly. "I'm just sayin'. You guys seem close. Like Onē-san and Totsuka-san close. But when she realized she left somethin' behind tonight, she asked Fushimi to go with her to get it, not you _or_ Totsuka-san."

From where he watched the sidewalk by his feet, Misaki's eyes widened, and his heart rate began to thunder against his chest. He was right. '_So, the others have noticed it too now_,' he mused hesitantly.

"I was just curious." Saburōta tossed his arms out to either side of him in an indifferent shrug. "Seemed strange to me that even with all of us there, she picked him, don't you think?"

Seemingly startled and slightly amused by his companion's theory, Rikio tried to laugh it off despite cautiously considering his implications. "Real funny," he mocked. "Even if Neirah was interested in someone like that, it would definitely be one-sided. Fushimi's pretty hard to get along with for any of us, much less a girl with a crush. Hell, Yata-san is the only one he seems to tolerate." He diverted his gaze towards the streetlights and gave his blushing cheek a soft scritch. "Hah… Yeah, there's just no way. Even just thinking about Neirah dating is weird, but did you really need to go and put that image in my head?"

"That's why I asked," Saburōta hummed. "I thought it was _pretty_ suspicious."

After becoming wry in expression, Rikio's grin curled as he tapered his accusing leer on his ally. "Besides, I thought you said _you_ were going to marry Nē-chan when she turned thirty. And what was your kid's name going to be again? It started with an _A_, right?"

Not only had that caused Saburōta to choke on his next words, but the man nearly toppled onto the pavement at their feet. When he whirled to face Rikio with a livid roar, the burly man could peek shades of crimson showing through beneath his unrequired shades. "Sh-! We said we weren't ever gonna talk about that night again!"

"Sorry, but you started it," Rikio teased drolly. "And I think the only reason Kusanagi-san let you off the hook was that he was so relieved she was okay."

A meek groan rattled in Saburōta's chest as he straightened and pouted his humiliation. "If Yata didn't rescue her, it would've been all my fault that she-" He suddenly gave his head a violent shake. "But I didn't mean to say I was gonna marry her!"

"Yeah, that was awkward," Rikio agreed. "I mean, how do you _accidentally_ name your firstborn daughter? Talk about creepy. I still can't believe how wasted you were, and then to find out Anna-chan started it?" A low, rumbling laugh interrupted his thoughts. "It's a good thing Nē-chan has such a good sense of humour."

Saburōta's expression deadpanned with the sheer offence. "So, I'm just a joke to her, huh…?"

Enlightened by the sudden adjustment in their conversation, Rikio turned over his shoulder with a bright smile. "Oi, Yata-san! What do you think? Did Fushimi steal Neirah away from Bandō?"

The pair stilled stopping in their tracks to comprehend that somewhere along the way, Misaki had vanished. They scoured the streets, combing over the still structures in hopes that he hadn't run off too far, but it seemed like they were too late to notice. "W-whoa, he's gone," Rikio murmured. "When did that happen? I didn't even hear him leave."

With a stifled shriek, Saburōta sank his fingers into his hood and ground his teeth. "Not again! Why does everyone get kidnapped when they're with me!?"

Rikio's expression dropped to imply his impatience. "Do you really think anyone could kidnap Yata _quietly_?"

"Onē-san's right… I'm cursed…"

"You're somethin'…"

It felt like the harder Misaki's feet hit the pavement, the less contact he had with the ground. It wasn't always easy for him to figure things out, and sometimes he came to wrong conclusions, but that didn't stop his heart from racing to the thought that he'd stumbled upon the meaning in Neirah's departure.

Things always got strange when Neirah and Saruhiko were together, and this wasn't the first time that Misaki had been suspicious. But the thought of Saruhiko's rejection scaring their hunter to Nagasaki had to be proven a false theory. No matter how many times he considered their interactions, Saruhiko's ominous promise that she wouldn't return, he kept coming up with the same conclusion. He was worried that she was escaping Shizume City with a broken heart.

* * *

Keeping his gaze locked on the road ahead, Saruhiko obediently accompanied Neirah through the city streets that night, but not in the direction of her apartment. The truth was that neither of them seemed to know where they were going, only where they weren't. At first, he thought that she was biding her time, but after careful consideration, he apprehended that maybe she hadn't known what she wanted to say in the first place.

"Well?" he interrupted exaltedly. "Are you going to talk or just lead me around in circles all night?"

"Here I thought you might be flattered," she retaliated. That was how she considered their conversations, like small battles fighting to decide the outcome of a war. "I wanted it to be you because I need honesty in my life right now, not optimism."

He ground his molars and swung his head to one side in an involuntary tick. As grateful as he was that Tatara hadn't managed to destroy her with his viral camaraderie, he still wasn't interested in taking the man's place. "If this is about your dad, look, if there's one thing I could care even less about than-"

"It has nothing to do with my father," she admitted bluntly. She waited for the silence to resume between them, keeping her eyes fixed on their progression through the city even when she felt his vexed expression fall on her. "It's true. I'm curious," she admitted. "This is going to go one of two ways. Either I'm going to show up to hold his hand, and he's going to die, or I'll finally learn that I'm truly cursed, and he will live on for many years to come in complete agony."

The intensity in Saruhiko's expression softened imperceivably for a moment in consideration as she took their conversation to a dark place.

"But that's not really why I'm going, and that's not why you're here," she nearly whispered. "I feel like we might share the same aversion to complicated feelings."

Saruhiko's teeth clicked as he ground them around the sound of his irritated hiss, his feet ceasing to move beneath him anymore. "Leave me out of your damn problems," he growled. "If we're here to come to some kind of common ground, I'm not interested." In his opinion, their relationship was fine the way it was, and far more interesting when they were at odds.

Stopping a step ahead of him, Neirah tipped her unwavering gaze over her shoulder to where she could face his aggressive stance. "Fushimi-san, I surrendered that hope a long time ago," she reasoned curtly. "It's true that I don't dislike you; in fact, you fascinate me. But I'm not interested in fighting my way into your world when I have two of my own to contend with."

"Then what?" he commanded. "That doesn't explain why you dragged me out here to talk about your problems."

"They're your problems too," she challenged. After lowering her gaze upon silencing her accomplice, her expression softened dismally. "For as long as we're red clansmen, there will always be a group of rowdy kinsmen trying to pry into our business." She raised her eyes beneath dark lashes to lock their gazes. "No?"

The instigation caused Saruhiko to stiffen hesitantly, and he wished he had something to say to refute the truth in her statement.

"I don't mind, for the most part, but I feel like soon, they're going to find something that they aren't going to like." She turned away from him entirely before murmuring her weak admittance for the first time since she was stricken with the realization. "And that terrifies me."

He didn't want to pry. He wanted Neirah to stop talking and admit that they could finally return to the bar at their heels because she was destroying his expectations of her. The only thing he hated more than being surrounded by the raucous delinquents that she spoke about was being alone with her and her _complicated feelings_. He loved that she was independent, that she didn't need to rely on anyone. He'd talked her up to Misaki repeatedly, only now to face the heartbreaking reality that there was a chance she had a heart beneath her thick skin. What he was hearing was a betrayal, and he rejected it.

But curiosity was a powerful thing, so he gave her one last chance to avoid letting him down. "What do you think they'll find?"

From where she'd diverted herself, Neirah closed her eyes and heaved a miserable sigh. "A woman," she admitted softly. "A delicate heart, kind eyes, the desire to love and be loved. All the things that you saw from the start and hated me for from the very beginning."

He felt his neck muscles contract like he wanted to shake his head, trying to wrap his thoughts around her delusions unsuccessfully. At first, her misinterpretation sickened him, and then, it entertained him until he started to chuckle under his breath, no matter how strange Neirah's expression contorted to hear him do so for the first time in her presence. "And here I thought you might've had something in that empty head of yours," he mocked dryly. "Then, you have to go and say something ridiculous like that."

Neirah cocked a brow slyly with hints of amusement on her face. "Oh? You flatter me so close to my departure? How I'll _long_ for the day when we're reunited."

"I don't get it," he snarled. "Why are you here? And don't give me the same half-assed crap that you did Misaki a year ago. Put some effort into it."

A disheartened sigh passed her lips as she lowered her head and slowly rocked it. "You ask that question like you have any desire to understand the answer."

"Are you questioning my intelligence?" he retorted brusquely. "I'm not like Yata. You can tell me the reason straightforward, and I'll understand."

"Very well," she admitted softly. "I hate to disappoint you, but it's not so different from the answer your friend struggled to accept." She raised her sharp eyes and locked them with his, her expression focussed. "I want to burn." She carefully observed him, noting the way his muscles tightened like he was surprised, or maybe attempting a retreat. "I grew up on a self-proclaimed exile, serving as an assassin until someone heard my heart's desire and pulled me out of the ashes. This is my rebirth, and these moments of uncertainty are nothing but growing pains."

She interrupted herself with a miserable sigh, catching the signs of mistrust in his eyes. "But in the end, all I want is to be in complete control of my fate," she assured him callously. "That's why I'm afraid to let any sign of weakness show because to face rejection like yours from the rest of my friends would destroy me."

Saruhiko wasn't sure why he felt the sting of guilt for hurting a woman he claimed not to care about in the first place, but he quickly overlooked it. It was the only reason they couldn't remain civil in each other's presence for too long. Both of them needed to feel in control, and what he wanted for her wasn't what she wanted for herself.

"Then what will you do?" He waited for her expression to soften, her eyes to meet the intensity passed on to his. "If that's what you want, would you be satisfied to come back a new woman just to have everything go back to the way things were? You're just going to tag along by Totsuka's side for the rest of your life?" The fact that she didn't fight back made his blood boil.

It was becoming difficult to keep his voice lowered, his body from trembling with irritated wrath. "You say you want to control your fate, but here you are, serving someone else's every whim. You talk about rebirth, but all they did was refit your collar. Are you telling me you can't see that?"

After a long moment of silence, Neirah's lips slowly curled into a sardonic grin. "So much for straightforwardness."

"Then let me ask you a _straightforward_ question. Why me? If all you want is to be in control, why does it matter what I say?"

"Because I can't control a flame until I accept that it's a part of me." She lowered her eyes and watched flames lick her fingers when she upturned her palms. "I have to figure out what the fire in my eyes burns for and then stop repressing it. If it's to serve my king, then that's my decision to make. I can't be driven by my guilt for the rest of my life, holding back bits of who I am just because I don't think others will like what they see. Those are all pretty words to ask someone who doesn't have an interest in the outcome to tell me whether or not you think I'm strong enough to face the consequences of my actions."

It was a simple game, and it bored him. Their relationship had been a power struggle from the start, but that part didn't bother him. What did was when Neirah showed sincere signs of caring about who he was and what he thought of her. She treated him like a friend no matter how hard he pushed against the mere thought in a way that reminded him of Misaki. She had shown him the weakness she feared would turn them away, ready to face rejection, but that was all she'd ever known from him. It was hard for him to comprehend when that had become endearing. There wasn't room for her in his life. He didn't want her in it at all.

"What consequences?" he muttered under his breath. "You said it yourself. I never liked you in the first place, so it's not like it could get any worse. And those idiots back at HOMRA? I'm pretty sure they're always going to be a pack of wild dogs at your heels. That's what you wanted to hear, right?" He wasn't sure why that particular part of the statement sounded so bitter.

"Go," he commanded frankly. "At the very least, I don't have to look at you for the rest of the summer."

Much to Saruhiko's irritation, she offered the man a tender smile. "You say that, but you've been going out of your way to spy on me recently, haven't you?"

_Tsk_.

She giggled softly. "Onii-chan can be such a pain when he's worried," she admitted exhaustedly. "But I couldn't live with myself if all I do is burden everyone around me."

"Then stop being so dramatic all the time."

Neirah rolled her eyes over her playful beam. "I've always liked you, Fushimi-san," she admitted soundly. "If I do lose my nerve and stay in Nagasaki after all, I might miss you."

"And I bet you're expecting that feeling to be mutual."

Her smile didn't fade as she slowly shook her head. "You wouldn't be you if it was. Just like I wouldn't be me if I wasn't a drama queen."

Sure, there were times when he was relieved that she wasn't around, and other times, he missed her dearly. If both of them were a little less stubborn, there was a chance that they might come to a mutual understanding, but it didn't interest either of them to put forth the effort. In the end, they had accepted that they didn't belong in each other's story, and that sufficed.

Still, there was a hint of disappointment in her tone as she spoke, feeling the weight of his earnest rejection in her heart. "It's settled then… I guess tomorrow I face my fear of flying."

"Are we done?" Saruhiko's tone was even and filled with agitation as he spoke. "If all you wanted was for me to tell you to get lost, I could've done that back at the bar without wasting the effort of walking out into the middle of town."

"True," she sang. "But I kind of enjoy these quiet moments alone with you. It's like talking to my subconsciousness."

Saruhiko nearly gagged on the sentiment but admitted that it amused him to think that there might be a self-destructive masochist somewhere inside the sadist she claimed to be. "Please come back as a soulless recluse."

Upon leaving him standing at her back, she waved her hand towards him with a playful chuckle, finding it amusing that she felt like they might get along better if she had taken his advice. "HOMRA isn't big enough for two."

_Geh-!_ After his entire body jolted with the impact of her honied insult, he snapped his sharp gaze over his shoulder like he was ready to bark back. Then, he stilled, catching the unsettling feeling that they weren't alone anymore.

His body relaxed as he watched her depart, checking either side of her in a way that was startling him to feel like he was watchful over the woman he knew would have long sensed the disturbance as well. The consideration had his jaw aching to bear the tension of his indecision until finally, he turned away entirely. He didn't care, obviously—what a silly sentiment…

_Tsk_.


	26. Kannon

**Kannon**

* * *

"What consequences?" Saruhiko muttered under his breath. "You said it yourself. I never liked you in the first place, so it's not like it could get any worse. And those idiots back at HOMRA? I'm pretty sure they're always going to be a pack of wild dogs at your heels. That's what you wanted to hear, right?"

Upon his arrival Misaki, slammed up against a brick wall, concealing himself in an alley near to the conversation he'd rushed urgently to attend. His original intention was to interrupt it, to make sure that Saruhiko hadn't said anything that might scare Neirah out of their lives. However, by the time he laid eyes on their unsettled expressions, he felt like he was already too late.

"Go," Saruhiko commanded frankly. "At the very least, I don't have to look at you for the rest of the summer."

Wild eyes watched in sheer horror as Saruhiko's fangs injected the venomous words under Neirah's skin. Every short breath began to tremble as Misaki burned with destructive energy, his thoughts running rampant. It was clear that Saruhiko had already rejected Neirah's presence, and the belief that he could do so as callously as he did, turned Misaki violent. Even if Saruhiko didn't have a romantic interest in the woman, she was still their friend.

Such disputes were intolerable among them. That's why they worked so hard to sort out their differences. Sure, they argued from time to time, but at the end of the day, they were a team. Misaki had put forth more effort than he knew he was capable of coming to terms with the woman to avoid the situation about to unfold regardless.

"It's settled then… I guess tomorrow I face my fear of flying."

"Are we done?" Saruhiko's tone was even and filled with agitation as he spoke. "If all you wanted was for me to tell you to get lost, I could've done that back at the bar without wasting the effort of walking out into the middle of town."

"True," she sang. "But I kind of enjoy these quiet moments alone with you. It's like talking to my subconsciousness."

"Please come back as a soulless recluse."

"HOMRA isn't big enough for two."

Once he'd shoved off the wall, Misaki stood at the mouth of the alley with his heart in his throat, watching Saruhiko examine the lioness as she departed. He paid careful attention to the flickering of concern on the man's face like he might have regretted what he said. "Why, Fushimi?" he muttered feebly. "What'd Tsukiyo do to deserve that!?"

His frantic gaze shot towards the casual departure of the woman he imagined prepared to lick her wounds, but he didn't know how to intervene. He didn't want to put his nose in her business again, causing her more pain, and he certainly didn't want to annoy her if her heart was aching. "Say something…" he begged. "Saru…"

He ground his teeth, throwing his eyes towards where Saruhiko had clicked his tongue and diverted to walk in the opposite direction like the entire confrontation was an inconvenience. "Idiot, go after her!" Even though he yearned for his words to reach Saruhiko's ears, he still muffled them beneath his breath in a bitter hiss. There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes for the briefest of moments when he saw Saruhiko stop in his tracks, but the man didn't manage to look back before continuing out of Misaki's sight.

Coughing out a livid snort, Misaki threw his skateboard onto the ground and kicked off the pavement, powering towards the direction Neirah wandered. He would deal with Saruhiko's lousy attitude later, but first, he had to do everything in his power to make sure their hunter returned to them. He couldn't rely on Mikoto to handle something so delicate. It still amazed him that Anna had managed to become so attached to the beastly king for how insensitive he could be. His king wasn't going to bail him out this time. It was something he had to do for himself.

That didn't mean Misaki was any more confident in his ability, though. While he approached, he could even feel the pigment in his face deepening in colour as his rampant thoughts tried to form coherent approaches to the situation. If it had been anyone else, he probably wouldn't care so much, but he felt responsible for the pain Saruhiko inflicted on his destructive whims. He knew it wasn't fair of Saruhiko to be taking his frustrations out on the woman.

Closing his eyes, Misaki kicked off the pavement a couple more times, deafened by the low rattle of nylon wheels against the texture of the concrete. He felt insignificant as he approached and filled with regret. When he first met the woman, he had approached her with the same rejection. He even went so far as to tell Izumo that he didn't think she belonged. He supposed what frustrated him the most was that it was quite like what he was currently loathing Saruhiko for doing. It made him wonder what had changed between them to make him view her in an entirely different light, and when.

But no matter who said it, or why, it wasn't true. It had nothing to do with Neirah being a girl anymore, but everything to do with the fact that she was a human being who deserved their respect and consideration. Just like Izumo said, she had made HOMRA her home, and Misaki wanted her to feel just as welcome as Izumo did. Despite her strengths, the apprehension he regularly saw in her eyes was his silent reminder that what he had to protect all along were the feelings she locked in her heart. He was sick of her hiding them to please jerks like Saruhiko. She should feel free to express herself in any way she wanted to like the rest of them. If Saruhiko could play himself up to be such a heartless bastard, then Neirah could be a loving big sister.

When Rikio had told Misaki that he didn't know Neirah, he was hurt, because he wanted to know her, and take the time to listen to things that she couldn't say. It didn't change the fact that he was still too late to act, but he wanted to promise her that he would make it right. All she had to do was find her way back home.

As Neirah departed, her smile slowly faded. The one person she expected to strike her down had done the exact opposite. What she needed Saruhiko to say was that she couldn't go. She wasn't strong enough. She would destroy everything she worked so hard to become a part of, and she should be terrified. But he didn't. Instead, he picked her up and told her exactly what she didn't want to hear. Everything would be alright, and nothing would change, although she felt like she could believe it more from Saruhiko than she could Tatara.

She closed her eyes, opening her mouth wide enough that she could withdraw a deep and purposeful inhale, holding her lungs to capacity for a moment before spitting the air out in a massive rush. When she opened her eyes again, her unsteady breathing hitched, and her gaze thinned to meet the sight of the Silver King's airship crossing the stars. She was getting sick of it, feeling like she was an insignificant flicker beneath his condescending leer.

Mikoto was right. The only time she allowed herself to feel the lovely heat of the fire in her heart was when she was angry. Other times, she seemed to repress it along with what she deemed her less desirable emotions. Maybe she did have a temper, but just like power, she was discovering that there was no right or wrong way to use it. That ire was simply a part of who she was. If she wanted to be irritable, she would bite back. If she needed to burn, she would surround herself with people who could take the heat. All of it would come down to her wants and desires, which remained undetermined. She had one summer to decide where she wanted to be if the path she walked ever came to an end. If there came a time when she watched her life fade, what would cause the smile in her heart to mount one on her face?

Neirah's deep thoughts were interrupted when she heard the noisy clamour of plastic wheels rolling against uneven asphalt, and she was quick to face the unexpected disturbance. However, when she did, it zipped right past her, hissing out a bitter curse followed by a clattering ruckus before a breathless Misaki was backtracking and peeking into her line of sight.

"H-hah… Tsukiyo, are you…You okay?"

Blinking at the man curiously, Neirah shifted her suspicious leer to either side of them beneath her furrowed brow before meeting the apprehension in his eyes. It seemed strange to her that he'd just wiped out on the street only to return and ask her if she was well. "Yes…?"

Misaki shuddered, pulling his skateboard across his font so that it occupied both of his fidgeting hands. "T-that's good then! I mean, if you're really fine, that is. Because… I know Saruhiko can be a real jerk at times."

Neirah closed her eyes, scrunching her face up beneath both sets of fingers as she tried to comprehend Misaki's train of thought. Then, it crossed her mind that maybe Misaki had trailed them all along and heard the conversation that was meant exclusively for Saruhiko's ears. With a nervous sigh, Neirah lowered her hands from her cheeks and examined his fleeting gaze. "Yata, did you follow us?"

Because Misaki's hands remained strategically filled with his board, the pressure of his fingers against it increased, causing his fingertips to squeal against the glazed underbelly of the printed slate. "I-it didn't start out that way," he defended shamefacedly. "But then stupid Bandō had to go and bring up how weird it was that you asked Fushimi to go with you instead of Totsuka-san or Kamamoto."

Exhaustion caused Neirah's expression to sink as she raised one set of fingers near her brow to massage her aching temple. "And how much of our conversation did you hear?"

Even though Neirah seemed casual in her approach, Misaki was a trembling mess. He could feel the sentiment choking his words as an unwelcome feeling of helplessness washed over him. Even if Saruhiko was heartless, at times, he could talk to Neirah. They conversed levelly, and albeit through harsh words, communicated their feelings with each other seamlessly. It reminded him that it still took all his courage just to stand in front of her some days, and he couldn't stand feeling so insignificant.

"I don't… w-want you to leave…"

Suddenly, Neirah's fingers relaxed against her scalp, her expression draining of impatience to the sound of Misaki's tremoring tone begging her attention. He looked like a child that had done something wrong, his eyes lowered, and cheeks flushed with guilt as he pouted on the verge of tears. But even if he trembled, he still dared to say what was on his mind, and she respected that.

He couldn't look at her. His fingers wrung the slab between them mercilessly as he unlocked his jaw and tried desperately to come up with a way to make her reconsider. "A-and it's not just me either… It's just- everyone's too stupid to say anything. So, that's why I have to be the one to tell you. We've all got this feeling that you won't come back, and then Fushimi has to go say all that stuff…"

Neirah's expression humbled as she watched him struggle against his inner turmoil. "Yata…"

With an impatient bark, Misaki threw his skateboard to one side until it struck the ground beside him in tantrum so that he could drive his balled fists down by his hips. "Why would you even care what an insensitive bastard like that thinks, anyway!? If that's what girls are into, then I don't get it! If he thought that he was better off without you, he coulda just kept it to himself!"

Misaki was combating angry tears when Neirah startled him by laying her fingers against his burning face, jolting him into opening his eyes to connect their gazes. He supposed the thing that took him most by surprise was that, at that moment, all he could see was the fire. The passionate blue to reflect his avid display showed that there was no hesitation or sadness in her heart when she stood against him.

"I need you to listen carefully." Her stern expression wanted to crack with a fond smile as Misaki timidly nodded his head, but she wanted him to take her seriously, so she stifled the urge. "Fushimi-san and I are friends."

Despite her hands keeping his entire expression from contorting, Misaki still wrinkled his brow in confusion. It floored him to consider that she would even classify the man as such after what he'd just witnessed. Still, he couldn't help noticing that she was adamant about denying that their relationship ran any more in-depth than what he'd seen at face value. "B-but how can you say that… after what he just said?"

A small smile finally cracked her expression before she released him and allowed him a moment to continue scrunching up his nose. "Yata, how many times has Fushimi-san said mean things to you?" Misaki seemed to consider her words for a moment, and before he continued, she interrupted him with another example. "Or what about Kamamoto-kun? Do you not think you're pretty hard on him, too, sometimes?"

There was a challenging spark in his gaze as he threw it over his shoulder with a mild snort. "Maybe a little… but he totally deserves it."

Neirah didn't contest him because she didn't feel the need to take it any further. Rikio had never complained once about poor treatment from the boy. "Some people just communicate differently," she admitted softly. "I don't particularly understand why Rikio doesn't fight back sometimes, but he seems happy enough even when you're hanging off his back." She laughed to the look of sheepish guilt flashing in Misaki's diverted pout. Soon, she humbled and made sure there was genuine care in her next words. "And I know it's going to be hard for you to understand, but I'm not angry with Fushimi-san for what he said. Because, in his own way, I think he's just supporting me just like everyone else."

Upon returning his gaze, Misaki cocked a brow disbelievingly, feeling a little ashamed that she'd filled her voice with a tone she might use when she was speaking to a child. "Really?"

She smiled brightly. "That's just how we communicate, so to hate him for something that makes him who he is would be incredibly unfair, right?" Noticing that what she was saying didn't seem to comfort him, she cocked her head to one side to try and connect their gazes where he'd diverted his in thought. "You think I'm naïve, don't you?" she pried cunningly. "Do you think Fushimi-san hates me?"

Reluctantly, Misaki tipped his peripherals to meet her bright eyes before allowing it to scamper away. "I guess he wouldn't rub your feet if he hated you," he muttered dimly in surrender. "Unless he had some kinda creepy foot fetish."

Typically, Neirah may have burst into laughter, and she felt it welling within her as he uttered the dry remark. But something about the way he cared to chase after her despite how difficult it must have been for him made her cheeks dust with fondness. He could be fearless when it was necessary, and that wasn't the first time he'd attested to that on her behalf.

After offering his witticism a small smile, she gently slipped her hand over his head and stole his hat. She kept her grin on her face when he snapped alertly to attention, but there was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she fitted the toque on her brow instead. "You know, it was pretty brave of you to come here to reprimand Fushimi-san," she teased. "Don't forget, you used to hate me too, remember?"

There were a couple of reasons why Misaki couldn't get the temperature in his face to drop, and that conglomerate of emotion was choking his words as she fixed her bangs to one side beneath the cotton that belonged on his head, not hers. When she finished, she held both arms out to either side of her with her fingertips facing up, and she gave a little twirl.

"Well? How do I look?" She turned an understanding smile his way. It had been the first time she'd ever stolen Misaki's hat because she never wanted to send him into a sputtering fit, but something about that night told her that they wouldn't have the opportunity for much longer. "Should I take it to Nagasaki with me?"

Regaining his senses, Misaki quickly sealed his eyes and shook his head, replacing all of his other conflicting emotions with rage. "N-no way! You can't have it!" he argued.

A gentle squawk caught his attention as she popped off her toes and began to bounce away. Her expression was bright and joyous as she twirled in a way that he had never seen from her before. "No, I think I will. Papa would like this look, for sure."

Misaki barked his agitation, bending to pick up his board off the ground before giving chase to reclaim his accessory. "I said you can't have it!"

Just as Neirah pulled the effect off her head to hold it out of his reach, regardless of how dishevelled it left her mane, she turned to tease him like she had teased Saburōta with his sunglasses last summer. "Let me guess. It's your _identity_?"

Without much warning, Misaki crashed into her front and boldly snagged the article in his hand to challenge her. "What? No! That's stupid!" he snapped. "Just stop trying to change. You're fine the way you are!" Just when their fingers met around the material, their gazes crossing for a moment, Misaki realized something striking him as critical. He mildly took notice of it before, but he was too riled to appreciate the fact that she wasn't stifling any part of her with him that night.

Comprehending that he lingered ensnared in a moment, his lips tightened, and he jerked his hand away from his hat in surrender. He recoiled anxiously, refusing to reconnect their gazes and catch the view of Neirah's altered state. He'd spent a lot of time wishing that she could rely on him as much as she had the others, but when he stopped to consider what that would mean for them come morning, the pressure suffocated him. "F-fine then," he choked out hesitantly. "You can have it."

Neirah finally let her hand drop, realizing that what he was surrendering wasn't a piece of clothing but a friendship. Somewhere inside, Misaki was genuinely afraid that she wouldn't return, and he'd been the only one to try and make her stay. The endearing thought caused her heart to race as she slowly replaced the knit cap on her brow. Once he'd been brave enough to face her again, she met his turmoil with the broadest smile she could muster, given her circumstance, dusted lightly with traces of crimson along her cheekbones. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll bring it back, okay?"

There were hints of disdain on Misaki's face as he searched her smiling face for sincerity. Part of him wanted to smile, and another part wanted to retreat in shame for noticing how cute she looked with her wild auburn waves spiralling out from beneath the sleek top. Another part entirely wished he could make her promise him because somewhere between the first time he'd caught her glaring at him in Izumo's bar to that moment where she flashed feminine charm, he'd begun to consider the person in front of him a cherished friend.

In the end, all he could muster the courage for was to let his staggered retort slide awkwardly past trembling lips, hoping that somehow, she could hear the longing in his heart. "Y-yeah… You better…"

* * *

From where he stood in the doorway to their makeshift theatre, Izumo's eye began to twitch with impatience. "Totsuka… what exactly have you three managed to accomplish in here over the last hour?"

"Absolutely nothing!" From where Anna had been trying to untangle Tatara from the wires, his smile was broad and welcoming. "King's box had an old movie projector in it, though!"

"Now we can watch Tatara's movies," Anna cooed softly in agreement.

The sound that Izumo's palm made against his brow echoed in the cluttered room as he groaned with irritability. "Remind me to stop leaving you unsupervised for any length of time."

"I thought that was why I was here?" Mikoto interrupted in a dull murmur.

"Go take a nap, _Your Highness_."

"Oi, Kusanagi-san, we brought some movies!" Yō's expression was eager as he held out a white plastic bag for Izumo to consider. That left Izumo to step out of the way, allowing the two boys passage. "They all have red in them, so Anna-chan should enjoy them too."

"What the hell is this?" The involuntary tick developing on Izumo's face grew unbearable as he pulled out a series of apocalyptic war and horror movies involving mass amounts of bloodshed. "She's. _nine_."

Yō dropped against the hardwood floor just as Anna raised onto her feet to go and peek his selections. "Yeah, well, I'm not sitting here learning how to spell _cat_ on my Saturday night," he calmly justified. "Besides, she takes off to the arcade to play those shooting games with Yata and Mikoto-san all the time. I don't see how it's any different."

Izumo dropped his arms by his sides, letting the bag sag in one hand as the other crunched a rental disc. "She does what?!"

With Izumo distracted, Anna peeked into the bag and rustled its contents before claiming a movie from the offerings. "This one."

_Ehn_? Izumo turned over his shoulder to look down at the view of the delicate creature holding up a case covered in blood splatter between both hands. With a frustrated growl, he gently picked up her choice and considered the title. "Anna-chan, this is a horror movie."

"I don't mind." She reclaimed the case from Izumo and bounded off towards her king to brag her selection. "It has the same title as the game I play with Misaki."

"I had to be the one who said it," Izumo rumbled bleakly. "What a _great idea_ this was."

Yō flopped lazily onto his side, peeking over his shoulder to check their company. "Huh, looks like we're the first ones back." He picked his cigarettes from his pocket and held out his hand towards Masaomi to beckon for their lighter. "Wonder if I've got time for one last smoke before-"

"We're back!" Rikio announced eagerly over the rustling of cheap plastic bags stuffed to capacity. The sudden proclamation caused Yō to emit a guilty yelp.

"And we brought snacks," Saburōta continued. "Which is what we went to do, so I guess that makes sense."

Izumo didn't know if he could handle any more of them gathering beneath his roof, but after a moment of deliberation, he wondered why there weren't more of them. "Wait, wasn't Yata with you when you left?"

"Yep." When Izumo continued to stare at Saburōta's confident proclamation like he thought he was going to get more of an explanation, a bead of sweat slipped out from beneath the boy's hood. "And then he got kidnapped."

Yō spat out the cigarette that he was still contemplating igniting. "He what!?"

"Who the hell would want to kidnap Yata?" Masaomi interjected.

Tatara shook his head to get the dust from the top of his crown as Anna reclaimed the musty film he had managed to string around his neck. "Oh wow, shouldn't we go look for him, then, King?"

"He didn't get kidnapped," Rikio drawled impatiently. He caught Saburōta in a headlock and wrung his neck with a low growl. "I'm pretty sure he went off after Neirah and Fushimi. Right, Bandō?"

"_Pretty_ sure," Saburōta squawked meekly through a hesitant grin.

"Wait…" Izumo rumbled curtly. "_How_ sure?"

Their attention suddenly drew towards where Saruhiko had rejoined their company in the doorway. The room went silent for a moment as the raven-haired vanguard scanned the area with a vacant expression, and soon, he tipped his gaze towards Izumo's. "Am I early?"

Diverting his attention towards the growing crowd, Izumo pointed towards Rikio and Saburōta. "So, let me get this straight. Yata left with Kamamoto and Bandō, but he's not here. You left with Neirah, and she's not here."

When Izumo's eyes met Yō's, the man shrugged indifferently, his cigarette bouncing between his lips as he prepared to light it. "Don't look at me. I brought mine back." Before the flame could touch the butt, Masaomi smacked the back of his friend's head until he lost the light again.

From the back of the room, Kōsuke finally raised and wiped his wrist over his brow. "Done," he heaved strenuously. He offered their party a small smile and spoke in a soft voice. "I think I've finally got the projector all hooked up."

"I'm free!" Tatara cheered elatedly. He climbed to his feet and patted his thighs to dust them off. He didn't even feel the slightest guilt that he hadn't managed to help do anything. "Thanks a lot, Anna-chan! That was-" He let out an apprehensive yelp to notice Anna standing with her arms stretched out by her sides, her tiny frame coiled in recording tape and twine.

"Help, please." Despite her dilemma, Anna's expression remained stony, and her tone relaxed.

"Ah! Right away!"

"And so, after that, you have to go through this super skinny passage and then bam! You're on the other side, just like that! You're pretty skinny, so you could probably-" Misaki quaked when he walked into the back room of the bar to have all eyes on him like he'd committed a crime. Even as Neirah brushed past him to enter, he remained with this hesitant feeling that he was in some form of trouble. "Uh, hi?"

"Would ya look at that. I guess Yata kidnapped Tsukiyo," Rikio sassed spiritedly.

"Yeah, but did he have to make her wear his stupid hat?" Saburōta instigated bitterly. "Uncool, man."

"Oi! I didn't kidnap anyone!" Misaki bellowed impatiently. "And screw you! She stole it!"

Taking moderate solace in the fact that Misaki had returned to make the evening a little more bearable, Saruhiko finally let himself into the room. "Just had to sneak away for some alone time with your girlfriend, huh, Misaki?"

He was already angry with Saruhiko, so when his other half instigated the situation further, Misaki was quick to reverse the assault. "I wouldn't've had to if you hadn't just abandoned her!"

"What can I say," Saruhiko smoothly dismissed. "I turned my head for one minute, and she ran off somewhere else entirely."

Neirah didn't bother looking up from where she was perusing the titles Yō had retrieved for their movie marathon. "Actually, the story we went with was that you fell through an open manhole and got separated."

"Let me guess," Saruhiko droned irritably. "It was Misaki's idea." When his gaze locked with his hat-less counterpart, Misaki puffed out his chest like he was proud of his creativity. The mere consideration caused Saruhiko to scoff and take a seat across the room in the place he'd be least likely to be bothered by any company.

Hissing out an already exhausted sigh, Izumo crossed the room and considered Kōsuke's handiwork. "Alright, now that you're all here, quiet down and behave yourselves, why don't ya? I'm still tryin' to run a respectable business out there for a couple of hours, so keep it down."

Neirah sat against the floor in front of the couch between Mikoto's knees and pulled Anna into her lap. "Onii-chan, you sound like an old man when you talk like that." She tipped her gaze over her shoulder to where Tatara was tugging on her new accessory curiously.

"I wasn't sure at first, but this is Yata-chan's hat, isn't it?" Tatara's smile broadened as he watched Misaki seat himself next to the woman with a chastened pout on his face. "How unexpected."

Neirah's smile softened when she tipped her head back against Rikio's shoulder after he'd sat on the opposite side as Misaki. "Yata said I could borrow it for my trip to Nagasaki. Although, I'm pretty sure it's warmer there."

Tatara and Mikoto's expressions altered considerably to her announcement, the sentiment immediately staggering them both. And from nearby, Izumo's once strung-out expression humbled in thought.

"He did, did he?" Izumo mumbled.

Comprehending that the situation had become awkward even after Izumo commanded that the only rule for their gathering was that they couldn't talk about Neirah's trip, Anna pressed the button on the disc reader to play the movie. Then, she raised an ivory finger to her lips to hush them with a delicate hiss. "Shh, the movie is starting."

After dimming the lights, Izumo quietly took his leave, careful to consider the sight before he did. Like a set of nesting dolls, Neirah had settled herself in front of Mikoto, and Anna snuggled up between the brunette's arms. Rikio was on the right of Neirah in front of Tatara, and Saburōta was next to him, proceeding to dig through their snack stash by Kōsuke's feet. On Neirah's left side, Misaki was surprisingly calm and willing to be near to the woman with Saruhiko somewhat close to him. Masaomi had leaned back on the other side of Saruhiko with his hands braced against the hardwood, and Yō was draped on his side, only mildly disappointed that he hadn't been able to sneak one last smoke.

Izumo would like to think that there were times that he felt like an over-glorified babysitter driven to the brink of sanity by the most dysfunctional batch of kids he could imagine, but the barkeep just couldn't stay away if he wanted to. HOMRA was home. It was more than an afterschool hangout, more than a makeshift movie theatre or snack bar, and it was where Neirah belonged.

There was an eager song in Misaki's voice as he watched the screen in anticipation. "So, what're we watchin'?"

Tatara smiled and passed the cap-less ginger the empty movie case. "Anna-chan picked out the movie," he explained. "She says that you play a game like this at the game centre."

Misaki shuddered, an icy chill ripping up his spine as he examined the case. "B-but… t-this is the one where the g-g-ghost comes out and k-kills all those people, right?"

Misaki's blatant rejection of the decision made Tatara's face contort with bemusement. "You don't like it? But the game-?"

Misaki whirled to face him with a pale expression flashing signs of alarm. "Y-yeah, but it's different in a game!" A game that he didn't want to admit he turned away from while Anna played.

From his dark corner of their impromptu theatre, Saruhiko let a low snigger rumble over the eerie sounds of the screen. "I'm feelin' pretty lucky that I made it out of that _manhole_ in time to see this."

* * *

By the time Izumo had finished up his day's work and returned to the room he'd left his friends in, they had shifted. The truth was, he may have forgotten that they were there if it weren't for the occasional uproar about who was hogging all the snacks, and what he assumed was Misaki shrieking in terror after a strategically executed swell of instrumental horror music. While he stood in the doorway, drying his hands in a dishrag, he was careful to absorb the adjustment to take place.

The first thing he noted was the vast assortment of empty bottles, boxes and wrappers littered everywhere, but he didn't miss the fact that most of them congregated around Rikio. Kōsuke had surrendered his spot on the sofa entirely to sit next to Rikio on the floor where Saburōta should have been. Anna climbed onto the couch at some point in his place and was tucked peacefully against a napping Mikoto. On the opposing side, Tatara perched on the edge of his seat, waiting for the next supernatural outburst. Regardless of how shrill the screams were coming from the bloody faces on the wall, Anna seemed no more than interested in examining the horrific and gory events to unfold.

On the floor, Saburōta had claimed Neirah's vacated lap for a headrest, and Izumo could only imagine Neirah had taken his shades as payment for the comfort because they now rested on top of Misaki's hat on her head. Both of their gazes fixed on the show, yet somehow Saburōta managed to calmly nibble the cookie sticks that Neirah was absently feeding him throughout the production.

In the short amount of time he observed the group, he watched Misaki reach for his missing hat twice in hopes of using it to cover his eyes, but when the boy came up with empty fingers, he shifted towards Neirah's shirt sleeve instead. After giving it a couple of nervous tugs, she raised her hand and covered his eyes for him like she thought it might help.

Masaomi had shifted to the other side of the room at some point to get in on the snack horde, but he never returned to Yō's side. Instead, he seemed more entertained by tossing wasabi peas across the room at the jumpy man waiting for the music to alert him to the impending murder. Saruhiko appeared to be the only one who hadn't moved from his spot next to Misaki, and nobody else seemed quite as disinterested.

In the end, Izumo couldn't help but smile. "Terror of the town, you bunch," he murmured fondly. He slunk along the edge of the room, careful not to startle any of them by stepping on their fingers. Slowly, he made his way around the back of the couch. He leaned over the leather to alert its guests to his presence before gently resting his hand on Anna's shoulder, mildly impressed that the child's skin didn't so much as quiver. "Anna-chan, it's pretty late," he whispered under his breath. "Did you want to come to bed?"

Without shifting her eyes from the movie, she slowly shook her head. "It's fine. I can sleep here."

As he retracted his touch, he surrendered her a kind smile. Part of him believed that was where all of them were going to end up sleeping. "Well, if that's what you want."

"It is."

Izumo flinched with how swiftly she responded, her tone gentle and monotonous when she did. But despite that, when she turned her large crimson eyes to face him, they were sparkling with fond affection.

"I want to stay like this forever."

Izumo's breathing hitched, and he tried to ignore the sadness of Tatara's eyes in his peripherals. He wasn't sure how to respond to her after the innocent but understanding comment. Luckily, the _slumbering_ Mikoto had heard her gentle coo and quietly took her under his arm for comfort. Sometimes Izumo wondered if Mikoto didn't move in his sleep when the child called for him. He'd certainly come a long way from dodging her company in the bar.

"There's so much red." Anna watched the room through half-lidded eyes, and her grey world spotted with traces of crimson. "There's so much more than I remember." Before joining HOMRA and taking the hand of the man her friends called _King_, the world was dull and boring, filled with monochromatic memories. But since, her canvas was dyed with the shade of hearts to share it.

When she felt Mikoto's palm on the top of her head, she hummed gently and turned to connect their gazes. To many, Mikoto's eyes might come off unfeeling or predatory, but she saw the tenderness deeper than he wanted anyone else to venture. "I want to stay," she whispered. "And make more of these red memories."

Mikoto just offered her a quiet smile.

Then, Izumo's gaze roamed over the flinching crowd to the sight of Misaki clinging to Saruhiko's arm next to Neirah. When the two first met, Misaki couldn't stand to be in the same room as her, but he watched them warm each other's hips that night as Saruhiko scrolled through files on his PDA, the glow reflecting on his spectacles. HOMRA was a vast and growing clan known for their violent tendencies, but that wasn't what he saw as he watched Yō curse under his breath to be struck by an inconveniently timed flying pea. His smile returned to the sound of Masaomi's devilish snigger preceding some loud crunching as Yō struggled to steady his heart rate.

Of all the hands that Mikoto had taken in his, there were a few that stood out. Some of the lower clansmen referred to them as _HOMRA's Elite_, but it wasn't necessarily that they were long-standing members, or more powerful, because there were indeed exceptions. The best way Izumo could describe it was that the boys and girls in the room with him that night were the pains in his backside that he just couldn't shake free. They were noisy, vulgar, destructive and grating- but they were loyal. It didn't matter if they were setting the world on fire or making sure one of their friends had one last smile to leave with the next morning, and something about that was endearing. If he had to define them in one word, it would be _family_.

"Kusanagi-san?" From where Izumo was knelt behind the lounge, losing himself to his despairing thoughts, Tatara quietly interrupted under his breath. "Did you need some help closing up for the night?"

Izumo took one last look at their off-duty hunter while she doted on her pet wolf and smiled. "Nah, don't worry about it," he murmured. "The place is closed tomorrow anyway, so there'll be plenty of time to catch up."

When Anna turned her understanding gaze towards him, his smile became sad but didn't fade. "I think I'll just join the rest of you for a little while if that's okay."

Just in case forever couldn't last.


	27. Kite

**Kite**

* * *

_**July 25th, 2010 6:12 am**_

It was way too early to be awake, in Izumo's opinion, especially on a day where he wasn't supposed to be working. Unfortunately, the kink that had developed in his neck from sleeping in awkward disarray encouraged him to rise. So, he padded over his sleeping brood while nursing the wound the bridge of his nose suffered for forgetting to take his glasses off before he lost consciousness. Then, of course, there was the headache warning him that he probably shouldn't have drunk so much with Mikoto once he decided that he was going to mingle amongst their fellow clansmen.

He dropped his hand from his face with a dull groan and slipped the arm of his lavender shades over his shirt collar to hang them. "It just had to be me," he reiterated as if scolding himself for ever agreeing to Anna's whims. "I had to be the one who said it."

Izumo startled alertly to the presence of another sitting at his bar that morning by the time he'd wandered out to the sun illuminating the establishment, and he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. After blinking away the sleep and stopping to scrutinize his company, a small grin was cracking his disbelieving expression with amusement. "Well, I'll be. You're up mighty early."

A startled huff seemed to jostle Saruhiko from his thoughts as he sat alone at a table in the corner of the establishment, trying to keep himself from falling asleep in his chair. After considering the face to join him, he realized that it wasn't worth reapplying his generally displeased expression, so he turned away instead.

The effort caused Izumo to chuckle. "Good morning to you, too," he drawled. "Don't worry. I know you're not a morning person, so I'll keep it down."

Saruhiko's jaw tightened with the need to instigate that the reason Izumo wanted silence was no doubt to nurse the migraine he'd carry with his hangover.

"I'm going to put some coffee on. Interested?"

Unfortunately, he couldn't resist the need to be snide forever. "Should you really be drinking coffee when you're hungover?"

From where he was beginning to fill a kettle with water, Izumo cringed, faltering with his grip until the stainless steel clattered against the sink. "No mercy, huh?"

Regardless, Izumo boiled the water and made himself a mocha, carrying over a cup of barley tea with him towards Saruhiko's lonely table despite the silence to proceed the boy's jab. It looked like the vanguard was avoiding eye contact, his gaze remaining on the empty street right up until Izumo lowered his offering. That was when navy eyes skirted their surroundings before peeking beneath his brow towards where Izumo hadn't departed immediately after serving.

Izumo met Saruhiko's mistrust with a friendly smile. "Mind if I sit?"

Saruhiko simply diverted his gaze. "It's your bar."

Pulling out a chair opposite of his irritable acquaintance, Izumo took a seat with a gruff snort. "Yeah, sometimes I wonder about that," he teased. He had seen conclusive evidence supporting both that it was no longer a bar, and it no longer belonged to him. Strangely enough, all that evidence remained gathered in the other room. "I've got enough animals around here to open up a zoo, and I'm not even the one who keeps them in line."

The boy didn't face his host as he spoke. "Lions?"

After a long sip of much-needed caffeination, Izumo sighed utter bliss and continued. "Lions, wolves, couple 'a birds." He cocked his head off to one side to prompt Saruhiko's attention. "Pretty sure there's a monkey in there somewhere too."

He got it.

From where Saruhiko was holding his lower jaw beneath the support of his palm, he slid his impatient leer over the steam of his tea to connect with Izumo's charming morning personality.

Conceding that Izumo wasn't going to let him drift off on his own, he dropped his hand onto the table with an exhausted sigh, subtly grateful for the warm beverage placed in front of him. "You were talking about Totsuka-san just now, weren't you?" Honestly, it frustrated Saruhiko to consider that something other than their king was running the show. His fellow clanmates didn't seem to hide the fact that Tatara was somehow crucial to their daily operation.

"I get the feeling you two don't get along." Even as he spoke the words, there was a playful smirk on Izumo's face. "That is, to say, _you_ don't like _him_. I don't think that kid has it in him to dislike anyone."

"I don't understand people like him," Saruhiko coldly rebuked. "Isn't living a life void of conflict boring?"

Izumo snorted curtly. "That would explain why you're here," he jeered. "This place is a nuthouse, even on a boring day."

Saruhiko's grip on his tea tightened uncomfortably as the conversation progressed. "You think it'll stay that way once she's gone?"

A grave silence stole the bar as the two men both sat with their diverted gazes lingering on vacant space, their thoughts troubling them in different ways. For a while, it seemed both might forget that Saruhiko had ever uttered the words, skipping over the comment entirely. Not long after the tension had grown palpable between them, Izumo spoke.

"You really believe that she's not coming back."

"No." Saruhiko wrapped his second hand around the warm mug and wrung his lean fingers around the porcelain. "I just hoped she was better than that…"

While he carefully observed the young man across from him, Izumo raised his cup to his lips. "Me too…"

Soon, Saruhiko raised his lacklustre gaze to where Izumo began to watch people pass the large storefront windows on their way about their business. "She's like a sister to you," he pried brazenly. "She talks about Mikoto-san like he saved her from this dark place in her life, but isn't what we do a lot like the Yakuza?" A docile shiver climbed Saruhiko's spine when Izumo tipped his naked hazel gaze into his peripherals to examine the youth over the rim of his coffee mug.

"Do you think we're the same as the Yakuza?"

He was comprehending that his filter hadn't developed adequately that early in the morning, so Saruhiko immediately recoiled and attempted to retract his folly. "It was just a comparison," he nearly whispered. "I mean, some of the things we do aren't much better."

"That's true."

Saruhiko raised his apprehensive gaze towards where Izumo quietly set his cup onto the table between them.

"You're a smart kid, Fushimi," he kindly acknowledged. "But you tend to see things at face value, and that's too bad. Something like that would make it hard to feel like we were any better than those we'd like to consider ourselves above."

Insulted by Izumo's blunt statement, Saruhiko closed his eyes and clapped his tea back against the table. "Does anyone see any deeper than that?" he instigated. "How can we when we're not even told why we're asked to do things?"

Izumo raised his finger to his ear to twist it. "Sounds like you're displeased with the way we do things around here. Tell me it's the coffee talking."

Saruhiko humbled uneasily, wondering why he expected to feel anything else. "It's just an observation. It has nothing to do with being displeased."

After straightening to face Saruhiko squarely, Izumo continued. "Then what _are_ you displeased about? You've always got your nose outta place over something or another. It must take great practice to come off that uninterested." When Saruhiko didn't speak, Izumo's expression softened, and he continued. "Or maybe you're more interested than you care to let on."

Without responding, Saruhiko slowly climbed to his feet and left his tea half-finished on the table. "Thank you for the tea. Please tell Yata I'll be heading home now, whenever he wakes up."

Izumo curiously flopped his head to one side. "I'll be waking Neirah soon to take her to the airport."

Saruhiko paused by the door but refused to reconnect their gazes. "So?"

"I thought you might be interested in saying goodbye since you're so convinced that she's not coming back."

His grip on the door handle tightened before Saruhiko was turning the nob and letting himself out of the bar. "You're right. I am uninterested."

The room remained silent around him for a long moment while Izumo finished his coffee, regretting that he hadn't accompanied it with a tall glass of water, as Saruhiko had suggested. A part of him consciously wished that he had something more reassuring to share with his subordinate, something that would help him understand what they did. But the truth was, they did what they wanted under Mikoto's rein. Even if their intentions seemed well-meaning, it didn't mean that their methods weren't a little unorthodox. They were an unruly vigilante justice, and he supposed he could understand why that bothered Saruhiko.

"Izumo."

With a gentle hum, Izumo turned his head to face the sweet coo of their resident dove, an affectionate smile curling his lips. Maybe they were a little rough around the edges in their approach to righteousness, but he couldn't see that as a bad thing. "Our princess rises," he sang. "Would you like a glass of milk?"

The gentle Strain slowly nodded her head.

A haggard groan filled Izumo's chest as he slowly peeled himself out of his seat, gathering the two cups that Anna surely took notice of on the surface. "I'll go fix you some breakfast," he gently offered. "I've still got some time before I need to wake our sleeping lion."

"Saruhiko left?"

It was difficult for him to determine whether the gentle hum was intrusive or not as Anna trailed after him towards the redwood and climbed onto a crimson stool. "That's right," he murmured. "It looks like he's already said his goodbyes."

Anna ignored Izumo's perceptible shudder when she slowly began to shake her head like she denied his sentiment. "Goodbyes are hard," she whispered. "So, this is easier."

Proceeding a quiet moment of consideration, Izumo grunted softly under his breath and smirked. "If you don't let anyone get close, it won't hurt when they disappear." There was a mocking song in his tone as he turned and looked down the quiet hallway. "Doesn't that sound familiar."

"Saruhiko will miss Onē-san too." Anna's sleepy eyes fell on the sight of her offered glass, brightening somewhat to apprehend that the milk had a faint pink hue noting its strawberry flavour. "That's why she has to come back."

Izumo cocked a brow wryly. "Because of Fushimi?"

After a slow slurp from her ruby-striped straw, Anna slowly shook her head with certainty. "Because this is where Onē-san belongs."

* * *

_"THIS IS YOUR FINAL BOARDING CALL FOR JAPAN AIRLINES FLIGHT JAL82, NON-STOP FROM TOKYO TO SHANGHAI. PLEASE ADVANCE TO GATE 109 WITH YOUR BOARDING PASS FOR IMMEDIATE LOADING. REPEAT. JAPAN AIRLINES FLIGHT JAL82, GATE 109. THANK YOU."_

"Ah! I forgot how big this place was!" Tatara beamed brightly and spun as far as he could with his hand still attached to one of the pull handles on Neirah's large suitcase. "People sure do love to travel these days."

"Not me," Neirah grumbled. "If I were meant to fly, I would have been born with wings." She whimpered when Izumo flopped his hands onto her shoulders from behind and leaned over to instigate.

"I have a hard enough time getting you to _sit_ still," Izumo drawled. "The last thing I need is you flying around at all hours."

Setting Neirah's bag upright on its wheels, Tatara turned to join the conversation. "Both of you are wrong," he teased. "Nei-chan flies all the time from really high places."

The wry look on Neirah's face warned him that it was too early in the morning for his shenanigans. "That's just fancy falling," she firmly interjected. "And it's from hundreds of feet high, not _thousands_. Plus, I'm in control of it, not at the mercy of a couple of men in ties."

"What do you have against men in ties?" Tatara pried.

"And we all know how much you love being in control, don't we?" Izumo interrupted. "But don't worry. You're only airborne long enough to get comfortable, and then before you know it, you'll be in Nagasaki."

"You did this…" she growled.

Izumo straightened and laid his hands on his hips, secretly savouring the way she knotted her face up around the little pink tongue she so rudely flashed him. He didn't once feel guilt for the purchase that led them to pack her across the country. "Charming as always," he purred. "Did you remember to charge your phone like I asked you?"

"Yes."

"Did you take out some cash to carry just in case."

"Yes…"

"And your toothbrush?"

"Onii-san!"

Izumo dropped his head with a sad smile and shrugged his shoulders. "Right, I guess you can pick one of those up when you land, can't you?"

"Don't worry," Neirah murmured. "I packed everything you told me too, everything Tat-chan told me to-"

"But not what Chitose told you to, right?"

She nodded reassuringly before flashing him a soft smile. "I'll be fine."

It was evident that Izumo didn't want to leave her behind in the lobby as he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, and lazily felt for his keys. "Well, I guess that's that, then. Good luck, kid." He watched conflicting emotions flicker over her face for a moment as she tried to maintain her smile before he finally reached out and dropped his palm on top of her head. She closed her eyes at first to keep her pressed bangs from disturbing her lashes, but soon, her sad gaze was parting and glowing with affection as she peeked his way.

Surrendering to her need for comfort, he took a single step forward until she bopped her brow against his chest with a defiant sniffle. "I'm glad you're going through with this." He ignored Tatara's nervous smile in his peripherals and playfully ruffled up the woman's roots. "I know it seems scary now, but I think this is gonna be good for you."

"You sound just like Tat-chan…" she muttered.

When he stepped away, he was proud to see that she'd managed to find relief in his assurance worth keeping her eyes dry. He hadn't seen her cry often, but the truth was that every time he did, they walked away from the experience a little closer. "Do me a favour and try not to cause a scene out west, alright, Little Lion?" He smiled back at her wryly. "That means no pranks, no fighting, and absolutely no fires." She looked like she was going to open her mouth to defy him, but when she did, he interrupted the thought before it could escape.

"_None_," he reiterated sternly. But with a knowing smile, he reached out and gently poked the centre of Neirah's chest. "Just this one. Keep this one hot."

Once Neirah had absorbed his sentiment with a promise to get mushy if he lingered, he returned his hand to his pocket and adjusted his gaze towards Tatara. "Alright, Totsuka. Say your goodbyes and let's get out of here. If I'm out front in a loading zone for much longer, they're gonna tow my ass."

"That's okay. You go on ahead." Tatara reclaimed Neirah's bag and angled it in preparation to drag. "I'm going to stay and help Nei-chan check-in. I'll take the bus back."

Izumo cocked a brow hesitantly before shrugging off his concerns. "Whatever you say."

Before the pair could depart, Izumo threw his index finger out towards the woman and filled his tone with urgency. "I want a text as soon as you're on the ground, you hear me? Neirah? Oi, don't ignore me, young lady." His heart warmed when Neirah raised her hand and casually waved off his concern. It reminded him of something Mikoto might have done, and it couldn't help but make him shake his head. "Give 'em hell, kid," he muttered quietly to himself. "We'll catch ya on the flipside."

It felt like a lifetime as they waited in the queue for the reception desk to receive Neirah's oversized bags. Still, after she'd finally passed them off and prepared to depart for security, Tatara fell stricken by a moment of panic. "Hey, Nei-chan?" He stilled beneath her scrutiny, trying to sort out his words and justify his interruption. "I just realized we left in such a rush this morning that we didn't have any breakfast." His expression was meek as he tried to remain positive in the face of the challenge ahead, and he was helpless to conceal it from her. "What do you say we grab a bite before your flight?"

Neirah did no more than offer his suggestion a kind smile, toting her carry-on duffle over her shoulder as they located their selected eatery. Neither of them really had an appetite, so it became apparent when they ordered no more than teas that they weren't doing it on behalf of a missed breakfast. The truth was that the pair spent so much time together that it seemed surreal to think that they were about to part ways.

Neirah tucked away a pastry for when she landed in Nagasaki but otherwise didn't fill her upset belly. She pulled out a spoon like she thought she might have some yogurt with berries, but didn't. None-the-less, she took a seat on a waiting bench next to her best friend and set the alarm on her phone to remind her to pass through security in a timely fashion.

"Are you excited?"

She turned her hesitant gaze towards Tatara with a bleak grin. "Tat-chan… sometimes you say the most ridiculous things."

With a knowing smile, Tatara quietly diverted his eyes. "It's been so long," he pried softly. "Do you think he'll recognize you?"

Despite her sombre demeanour, his innocent comment caused her to chuckle. "I don't even recognize myself from two years ago. So…"

When Tatara peeked her in his peripherals, he comprehended that she was shaking, so he calmly wove his fingers between hers and linked their hands against the bench. "It will be fine," he reminded her tenderly. "Everything will work out."

"You always say that…"

It was Tatara's turn to laugh at her dismal groan. "That's because it does, doesn't it?" He gently bounced his knuckles off their seat with her hand secured playfully with his. "What happened to wanting to be more positive? I can't teach you if-"

"Tat-chan…" The grave tone in Neirah's voice stopped Tatara from rambling when she calmly interrupted him. "How many of you think there's a chance that I won't come back?"

Tatara's grip on her hand faltered momentarily before strengthening. Her eyes didn't meet his, but he tried to notice the pain she focussed on hiding. "I… Well, none of us really-"

"King-sama knew, and if he knew, then Kusanagi-san must know too."

Lowering his gaze sheepishly, Tatara slowly reclaimed his fingers from her soft touch and circled both sets around his travel cup. "Maybe a couple of us," he whispered in surrender. "Anna-chan and King knew best, then Kusanagi-san and I, and… maybe everyone else has their suspicions."

"Fushimi-san is the only one I told… But after last night, Yata knows too," she admitted dimly. "Though, if I were thinking about it carefully enough, I might even say that the others were acting a little strange all along." Soon, her posture slackened with dismay. "I'm surprised Yata didn't try to get King-sama involved. Not that it would have done any good."

Tatara seemed startled by the resentment in her voice. "Why did you say it like that?"

"No reason," she softened. "My mind is just made up, that's all. I wouldn't have let King-sama stop me if he tried."

With a soft smile, Tatara's heart warmed. He understood just as much as she did that Mikoto had no intention of stopping her. "You're right. It's hard to see you like I did the night we met."

Growing slightly more confident in her situation, she returned her fond smile towards her friend. "But Tat-chan is the very same," she teased. "I guess when you're perfect, there's no need to change."

"H-hey! Don't make fun!" he bayed awkwardly.

"Whose making fun?" Neirah slipped to one side and dropped her temple against his shoulder with an exhausted moan. "Do you think… there will be room for both of us if I come back strange?"

His tone was soft with melancholy as he tried to tease her spirits higher. "Do you think I'm strange?"

"I think it would be strange for me to return and tell Kusanagi-san that I look up to him more than anybody else in the world. Say that I think Anna-chan is the most beautiful young lady I have ever seen, or that I love how adorable Yata is when he's angry."

Tatara smiled to consider the reaction Misaki would have to be so boldly demeaned. "I'm sure he'd love that." With a miserable frown, Tatara slowly turned to catch the sight of Neirah raising her hand to the centre of her chest, where Izumo had poked her earlier that morning.

"I keep a lot of things here, lost somewhere between worlds." She closed her eyes and listened to her racing heartbeat sound in her ears for a moment. "I want to be someone who can say these things without fear. Even if it makes me strange, I want to be strong and sincere."

"It's not strange, it's-"

"Interesting?" Neirah giggled softly, albeit a little half-heartedly. She straightened and raised her eyes to meet Tatara's beneath his light bangs before leaning forward and dusting the thin strands from his focus. "King-sama told me to burn in the best way that I knew how. But these feelings are the fuel. I know they are. I can't focus on using my flames the way I want to with all this noise." When she noticed that it was her friend's turn to seem disturbed, she gently reached out and linked her fingers with his. "Our king gave me this power so I could be free. I owe it to him to burn."

Her grip on Tatara's hand tightened as her tapering gaze observed the mundane bustling of people around her. "And I want to set this cold world on fire."

It was fascinating to him, how differently Mikoto and Neirah saw the power they were blessed with by the Dresden Slate. Mikoto seemed to resent it, whereas Neirah cherished it. One wanted it to guide them while the other saw it as a cage. He wondered how the same blaze could cause two hearts to burn entirely separately, yet somehow, together. "Lion-chan…"

The pitiful tone of Tatara's voice caused Neirah to turn and face her companion with a startled whimper. The last time she'd heard it was when they'd talked about their king while observing a beautiful red sunset. Just like that day, she felt her fretful tears rising without warning, and she felt like she was crying the tears he couldn't. "No…" She began to shake her head at a frantic pace, sealing her blurred vision from the sight of his loneliness. "No, I can't go. It would be too selfish," she whined. "I don't want to leave you again."

A delicate yip chased more nervous moans from her throat when Tatara quietly tipped forward and connected her brow with his, his smile reassuring even though her eyes remained locked. "Then wouldn't it be selfish to stay?"

"Not now-"

"I want you to stay too, so does that mean I'm selfish?"

Frantically rolling her forehead against his, Neirah shook her head in denial. "Tat-chan is the exact opposite of selfish."

"King wants you to go."

Neirah slowly opened her eyes, staring into Tatara's serene expression. His eyes were closed, and his smile kind as he lingered against her calmly. His tone remained filled with certainty and support, but somehow, she felt like it wasn't entirely for her benefit.

"Even though I'm going to miss my roommate, I have to make sure you get on that plane." When Tatara slowly opened his eyes to connect their gazes, his smile broadened fondly. "It's not selfish if you do it for King, is it?"

"But, Tatara…"

"Do you remember what you told me the night we met?" he reasoned soundly. "You wanted to repay King for helping you even if you were powerless. But Nei-chan is not powerless. She is a mighty hunter filled with pride and purpose. HOMRA's Red Lioness."

"Lion…"

When her whisper was nearly too soft to comprehend, Tatara gently backed away from their contact and observed her calming expression more directly. "But I thought-?"

"It doesn't matter if I'm a woman or not. I am a red clansman of the Third King Suoh Mikoto." She closed her eyes, a tender flush in her cheeks to recall her mighty king's sentiment. "So, I need to stop indulging myself in strange ways and accept these feelings as a part of me. I need to remember what it means to be brave."

Neither seemed overly startled to the sound of Neirah's alarm, chiming in her lap from her freshly charged mobile, but that didn't mean that there wasn't resentment in each of their hearts. With her free hand, Neirah roughly dragged the back of her hand over her face to dab her tears before banishing the happy song. All she wanted that moment was to be miserable.

An awkward laugh had filled Tatara's uneasy tone with song. "You'd better get through security, so you're at the gate when they call for boarding."

The optimistic hum in Tatara's voice was equally as grating as she tipped her head back with a hearty sigh. "It seems ironic that they're going to check me through without realizing that I don't need to carry a weapon to be armed."

"Now, now," Tatara muffled apprehensively. "Remember what you said about _fancy falling_? I don't want to imagine you doing that from thousands of feet after committing an act of terrorism."

Noticing his concern, Neirah turned her dry smile his way with a reassuring twinkle in her eye. "Don't worry. It's been a while since I've had any sort of panic attack." Even as she tried to make light of the situation, she could feel her bottom lip trembling to imagine how hard it was for him to maintain his positive façade for her benefit alone.

A moment later, Neirah quietly fell forward and dropped her arms around Tatara's shoulders, causing the man to exhale a sharp, shuddering sigh against her shoulder as he closed his eyes. "Stay safe out there," he whispered against her collar. "King isn't going to be able to protect you if you get into trouble."

With a reminiscent smile, Neirah snuggled into his neck with a tender blush in her cheeks. "I'm not helpless."

"I know…" he whispered somberly. "I've always known, Lion-chan."

The moment she slipped away from him both lasted a lifetime but ended too soon, and the reality of her next few steps caused her heart to palpitate. In a few hours, she would be looking at her father in the eye after too many years apart, and the only family she knew would be miles away. It felt like she was stepping back into a world that had rejected her, but she didn't have time to linger on the terror welling in her throat — not this time.

But as she stepped back, she couldn't help but wonder why everyone else had to suffer for her to move forward.

Tatara immediately felt incomplete, like a piece of him was missing as soon as Neirah had left his side. The songs filling their home, laughter, the scent of flowers, and a feeling of warmth all seemed like a distant memory in less than an instant. He was afraid that they would finally face the day of reckoning he'd predicted, but it wouldn't be fair to stop her. She had the right to find out for herself that it wasn't her presence that caused others to suffer; it was her absence. He only wished he could have made her see that she was never a curse. From the very beginning, he had always considered her a blessing.

"Nei-chan!"

Just before Neirah could vanish entirely from his sight, she heard him call out to her in the busy lobby. She slowly turned, trying not to choke on the welling lump in her throat as her heart palpitated.

Tatara's smile was as deceptively bright as it ever was when he raised his hand into the air like he was cheering, not waving goodbye. "You know, the circle isn't going to be complete without you."

And there they stood at the crossroad, a thousand lives passing them that day on paths leading to anywhere. As she clutched her duffle strap, she felt the pressure in her chest build when her heart ignited and chased the cold from her trembling body. She couldn't be cold when he smiled at her the way he did, so she kept that smile in her heart.

She couldn't be afraid. She didn't have time. But just then, it struck her the hardest. It was Rikio's reassuring palm on her collar, bright jade eyes of a plush lion, Masaomi's gentle encouragement urging her to peek her dream dress, Saruhiko's bitter tone, and the protesting weight of Saburōta's head in her lap.

_"I don't… w-want you to leave…"_

It was hard for her to determine whether it was her bashful memories warming her face or the threat of boiling tears, but she chased both away to reach for the zipper on her bag. She quickly dug through the duffle, delighted that the article she sought was near to the surface. When she returned her attention to Tatara, she beamed a confident grin of her own and swiftly jerked Misaki's hat onto her brow with a meek snicker. It was an article that Misaki didn't want her to have in the first place, but it was also her promise; her promise to reward their patient understanding.

_Burn._

_Burn until the cold can't touch you._

_And then, burn some more_

_..._

* * *

Seated quietly, Neirah stared out the window towards the crystal-clear horizon stretching past the wingtip, past the runway and straight into oblivion. She couldn't help wondering how far the path extended or how vast her world would become when two worlds merged.

In an absent attempt, she flipped through her messages, peeping on the status of the one-sided conversation Gin had long abandoned. It took all of her strength just to invite him back into her life, and she thought that would be enough. At first, it was enough for her, even if he couldn't understand. But fear was a vulnerable state of mind if she recalled. Convincing herself that she wouldn't be afraid was a pretty thought, but she was more than willing to work for it.

Neirah startled the moment she was joined by the dull thump of another girl around her age, stuffing her carry-on into the overhead storage of their appointed seats. The violet-haired maiden tipped strawberry shades onto her head and dropped into the chair next to her with a relieved sigh, flinging her bundled pin-straight locks backwards. The intrusion caused Neirah to swiftly retract her arm from the shared rest with wild eyes. Luckily, she'd managed not to graze the civilian.

"How lucky!" the eager woman cheered. After lifting her squared bangs from eyes so dark that they looked like ebony beads, she tilted towards Neirah with a friendly smile. "I was so worried I'd get stuck sitting by some creepy old man, or somebody smelly!"

It was strange, the feeling that Neirah had in her heart as the kind lady prattled. She didn't say anything, but she watched intently with bright, wonderous eyes as the woman's plum ponytail bounced with every exaggerated swish of her head.

"I'm sorry if I hog the armrest, by the way," the woman chimed with an impish snigger. "I'm so selfish sometimes, especially when I travel, but it's probably because I hate it so much."

With her guest's generous warning, Neirah felt her lips curling up to either side in an understanding smile. She hadn't been overly fond of travelling herself. "It's fine."

Her cheerful company giggled enthusiastically. "My name is Asuka, and it's super nice to meet you!"

Neirah startled, her face immediately flushing deep crimson shades. "I-I'm sorry?"

"A-su-ka," she sounded out friskily. "Kobayashi Asuka. That's my name."

"A-Asuka … hah…"

Asuka flinched, cocking her soft cashmere features to one side as Neirah began to chuckle, initially, before finally clutching her obliques and keeling over in her seat.

"Ohp, I spoke too soon," Asuka teased. "I'm sitting next to a crazy after all."

"N-no!" Neirah held her index finger under her eye to catch the fond tears beginning to pool. "I'm sorry, that was rude. You just made me think of a friend of mine." Instead of clamming up and avoiding the company, Neirah apprehensively embraced the subtle twist of fate. "I'm Tsukiyo Neirah, and I am also most pleased that you aren't a smelly creep."

Asuka threw her head back into her headrest with a devious cackle. "Right?! If you like it, it's jasmine."

_"THANK YOU FOR FLYING JAPAN AIRLINES FLIGHT JAL607 TO NAGASAKI. PLEASE ENSURE THAT ALL MOBILE DEVICES HAVE BEEN SET TO AIRPLANE MODE BEFORE TAKEOFF AND THAT YOU ALWAYS COMPLY WITH SEATBELT AND NO SMOKING SIGNS WITHIN THE AIRCRAFT. FLIGHT DURATION IS AN EXPECTED HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY MINUTES WITH FAVOURABLE WEATHER CONDITIONS."_

Taking swift notice of the announcement asking that all electronics set to airplane mode, a distracted Neirah quickly reached into her pocket to pull out her PDA. "Oh, I almost forgot that part. I don't do this often."

Then, Neirah's breathing caught, her world shrinking for a moment even as Asuka rambled on about what an inconvenience it was to be without the internet for the two-hour-long flight. When Neirah picked up the piece of paper that had fallen out of her pocket and unfolded its edges, she felt her stomach knot.

_Have a safe trip, Nei-chan! See you soon!_

_-Tat-chan_

She raised her fingers to cover her mouth and stifle her desperate squeal, afraid that she might scare her seatmate again if she wasn't careful. She quickly crinkled the small note in her palm, clutching it for security as the engines of the BOEING 738 aircraft began to ignite. Her thumb quickly danced over her touchscreen to disable communications as they taxied from gate 5A. However, before she could tuck the device away, Asuka was glancing over her shoulder at the background image displayed.

"Ooo! Who's the hottie? Is that your _boyfriend_~?" Asuka poked her nose into Neirah's bubble, but the brunette didn't put forth much effort to shy away.

Instead, Neirah felt herself leaning as close to the woman as she could without making contact. A genuine smile remained on her lips thanks to the reassuring note she'd just found in her pocket a moment prior when she flashed the image of she and Tatara in a selfie beneath the blooming cherry trees. She had taken it on her birthday earlier that year. "This is my best friend, Tat-chan," she fondly explained. "I have to keep his smile close so that I don't _actually_ go crazy."

Asuka squealed lightly and whipped out her mobile in return, scrolling to a picture of her and her best friend, also by the water. Once she'd found it, she thrust it towards Neirah with a proud grin. "No way! I'm totally the same! I don't know where I'd be without this lovable dork!"

Shifting in the light beginning to alter in intensity through her window, Neirah caught the sight of a dark-haired lad in the picture next to a lively Asuka. The lighting was poor, but the bangs peeking beneath his sweater hood made it look like the couple may have shared the same hair colour by choice. The two must have been of a drinking age because the goofy face she was making was undoubtedly not one a sober woman would willingly display, not that he was anymore flattering. Something else they both shared was the sprightly flicker in their eyes, his crimson irises sparkling just as brightly as hers when they were together. Neirah could sympathize with that spark.

Noticing Neirah's struggle, Asuka groaned and reclaimed her phone to browse her picture library. "Here- Let me see if I can find you a better picture of him. Hirota-kun always has his damn hood up."

Before Asuka could find a picture of her hoodless companion, Neirah had pulled out an image to sympathize with her, flashing it fondly. "It could be worse. At least you can still see his face."

Asuka investigated the picture Neirah zoomed of her mixed with a couple of boys. In it, Neirah was draped over Saburōta's shoulders with Rikio's palm on her head. With the way Kōsuke was casually leaning against Saburōta's shoulder, Saburōta looked like he was supporting all three of them in the narrow frame. Asuka's attention immediately drew to one of them wearing a hat, a hood, and sunglasses _indoors_, and the apparent tangent caused her to squeal. "Eee! It's Hirota-kun's little brother!" Without warning, the invasive woman snatched Neirah's mobile device and began to flip through the pictures. Strangely enough, Neirah didn't seem bothered. "Wow, Tsuki-chan, you have a lot of pictures!"

Neirah's face warmed as she let Asuka shamelessly peruse her gallery. "I have a lot of friends," she thoughtfully murmured as she watched other planes taxi past her window. "I spend as much time with them as I can, but when I can't be there, I like to keep them close. I have them send me most of the pictures they take, too, so don't mind the tags." She sheepishly itched her jaw. "They can be… a little vulgar sometimes."

"Nah," Asuka absently dismissed with the flap of her palm. "Don't worry. I can appreciate an honest dude." Not catching the fond flush in Neirah's tan features in her peripherals, Asuka leaned into proximity again to flash Neirah one of the photos. "Ooo! This one's _gotta_ be your boyfriend!"

Neirah tipped her curious gaze towards the picture that caused Asuka to ask the question a second time before giggling and quietly shaking her head. "No," she hummed. "And before you ask me a hundred more times, I don't actually have a boyfriend."

"What?! No way!" She slumped back in her seat with poor posture, making Neirah look like the proper woman in their twosome. "You're really pretty, so I just figured-" Seemingly startled by her realization, Asuka turned her joyful gaze towards her new friend. "Wait! So, does that mean he's single?" She beamed back a wicked grin. "He's cute. I love guys with wavy hair."

Neirah leaned towards where Asuka had hogged the armrest, as promised, and pointed at the screen, directing her attention with her finger. "Chitose? I think he's probably single, maybe. I would hope so with the way he talks," she divulged. "The one on the couch taking the picture is his best friend, Dewa. I was really sick that night, so everyone did their best to take care of me."

She seemed to bind herself in the memories as she tilted her fond smile and observed her gallery in another's hands like she was on the outside, looking in. For whatever reason, it seemed like she was viewing their memories with different eyes, noticing the underlying sentiment hidden in each screenshot. "Chitose-kun is a bit of a player, but he has a really big heart. He's reliable and a great listener."

Asuka deviously giggled as she reclaimed the phone with both hands and examined the tag Masaomi had marked on the image stating that Neirah was the only woman Yō could keep in his life. "Okay, no way. I'm definitely programming my number into your phone, so you have to promise to hook us up, okay?"

Neirah shuddered uncertainly. "I- what?"

"My number," Asuka sang. "You seem like an interesting person! We're barely in the air, and I'm already having a blast!"

Neirah gasped before whirling and facing her window, her tawny skin paling when she realized that somehow, she had managed to miss the fact that they had taken off. Her blood chilled as she watched the city shrink below, and she instantly felt nauseous. "O-oh, wow…"

Asuka finished adding her number in Neirah's contact list with a less-than sign and a three proceeding her name before nosily returning to the woman's gallery. "What about this one here? I notice he's in a lot of the pictures you have too."

It seemed like Neirah had forgotten her suddenly airborne predicament when she turned to the sight of a picture tagged 'Mission Accomplished'. The photo was taken by Rikio, who was in the image too with his free hand displaying a cheerful thumbs-up. It also featured her and Saruhiko in the background as Misaki tried desperately to scrub her red lipstick from his face. Rikio had been one of the people who sent her the most images to add to her collection because he was the only one that she had ever expressed her desire to collect. "That's Rikio. I've known him for a while now too."

"I like his sweater," Asuka pried deep in focus. "It looks _super_ comfy."

Neirah rolled her eyes with a soft flush in her cheeks. "It's in my suitcase if you wanted to try it on."

"Actually?! You stole the guy's sweater?! Savage!"

Neirah laughed, a little guiltily. "Not this time. He gave that one to me that same night I got sick. It doesn't fit the winter him so well." Noticing Asuka's confusion, Neirah swiftly waved her hands in front of her face with an awkward laugh. "Oh, but we don't have a long enough flight for me to explain that one!"

Regardless, she turned her bright expression towards the energetic woman who was more than willing to listen to her stories. "Onii-san teases me all the time for wearing Rikio's clothes more than my own, but they're really warm." Looking back through the glass caused her heart to flutter. "He knows that I don't like the cold, so he's always making sure I'm comfortable. He's thoughtful that way."

"That's so cute that I think I'm going to be sick." Asuka turned to look at her with a wry expression. "It must be huge. You're so little compared to him!"

Leaning closer, Neirah swiped her finger across the screen a couple of times until Asuka could see just how big it was, and the two had burst into delighted laughter.

"Oversized hoodies are my favourite thing in the entire world," Asuka eagerly divulged. "Hirota-kun is always yelling at me for stealing his clothes, but they're _sooo_ much nicer than mine." She smirked impishly and tugged on the front of the charcoal pullover that was falling off one of her shoulders. "There might not be much of a size difference between us, but it's just enough to make me feel safe."

A matching smile tugged on Neirah's lips as she recalled the sweater that she saw the man wear in one of the pictures Asuka shared. "I thought it looked familiar."

Asuka kicked back in her seat and bunched her knees against the reverse of the chair in front of her, causing its passenger to grumble something about today's youth. "How lucky. We have so much in common," Asuka murmured fondly upon swiping. "And you said you have a brother? Totally jealous. I'm an only child myself."

The laughter subsided, but Neirah's tender smile remained as she browsed a couple more pictures before she found one of her and Izumo. It was one Tatara had sneakily captured. She stuck her tongue out at her king, and after catching her, Izumo pinched both of her cheeks before pulling on them to punish the offence. "This is my Onii-chan," she started. With an evocative groan, she raised both sets of fingers to her face to give it a rub. "But honestly, I don't have any relatives either. My momma, she passed away shortly after I was born."

"Really?" Asuka's tone flattened considerately, but she didn't apologize for bringing the memories to the forefront of Neirah's mind. Instead, she watched Neirah quietly reclaim her phone, only slightly nervous that she might have struck a nerve. "Then who are all those people?"

After digging a little deeper, Neirah found the picture that she loved most of her and her friends gathered around Izumo's bar. When she did, she examined it fondly for a moment before showing it to her circle's newest addition. In a world she sought to make her own, to see a fate shaped by her hands, they were the ones she chose to hold her burning heart. "They're my family."

Asuka's expression grew temperate as she examined the happy faces in the picture from Kōsuke to Yō. Then, her attention fell on the sight of Neirah sitting between Tatara and Mikoto with Anna in her lap. "Hah… You have a little sister too?"

Upon noticing Asuka's sudden shift of demeanour, Neirah retracted the photo uncertainly and nodded. "Surrogate sister."

Asuka turned away and smiled kindly, but it was unlike her boisterous introduction. "I totally don't want to be that person, but I almost had a sister," she admitted softly. "She passed away before she turned two."

Neirah startled, surprised that the woman felt so comfortable around her that she could divulge such a truth. Then again, Neirah had mentioned the loss of her mother.

Asuka turned her reassuring smile over her shoulder to face Neirah. "So, I guess I just think it's great that you made your own family even though you don't have any other brothers or sisters. I can tell they fill your life with love." She shifted dark eyes towards the front of the plane with her meek smile fading. "It seems like a healthier way to deal with it than mine."

Suddenly, Asuka flinched to the feeling of Neirah reaching into her lap and taking her PDA from her hands. After fiddling with it for a moment, she returned it with a kind smile. When Asuka looked at the screen, Neirah had added her number, putting a colon and a closed bracket at the end of her name.

"I've learned a lot since I met these people," Neirah murmured tenderly. "But the most important thing is to smile through the hard times and invite new people into your life without the fear that you'll lose them."

Asuka shuddered and diverted her attention to where Neirah reached out her hand like she wanted a handshake. "If you'd let me, I'd like to welcome you into my circle of friends."

After a moment of consideration, and the suspicion that she may have seen Neirah's hand tremble for a moment, Asuka slowly reached out and laid her palm against the kind offer. It was apprehensive at first, on both sides, but soon, Asuka's broad smile was returning in force as her pale cheeks ignited in a beautiful shade of pink. "Hey… Did you want to maybe share the armrest?"

"Actually," Neirah murmured delicately under her breath. "I think we could make that work."


	28. Break Special - Karri

**~Break Special~**

**Karri**

* * *

**_August 13th, 2010_**

"No."

Filled with uncertainty, Tatara shuddered, a desperate whine in his disappointed tone as he retracted the glossy wand from Anna's face. "Ah, no good?"

After scrutinizing herself in the mirror, Anna closed her eyes and softly shook her head as she tilted his way. "Onē-san does it better," she announced in a soft coo.

Dropping his shoulders into his dismay, Tatara slackened forward with a heaving sigh. "Of course, she does, but she's miles away from us now, so we have to do it ourselves this year, okay, Anna-chan?"

Anna turned her bright wine-coloured eyes on her reflection again and stared at her thin lips absorbing the deep crimson shade of the lipstick Neirah had left her before departing for Nagasaki. Every year on every birthday, Neirah would paint her lips to leave a specially placed kiss on every one of their clanmates for good luck. Nobody was sure what inspired the ritual, to begin with, or why it became so anticipated, but in Neirah's absence, it was up to Anna to uphold tradition and make sure that all their members carried the luck.

That included their king.

Anna watched her cheeks dust with colour as she observed her reflection, her left eye sparkling with the brilliant flicker of the flame she carried. It had been a few weeks since her big sister had left, and the only birthday she anticipated to miss during her stay in Nagasaki was Mikoto's. Because of this, she had entrusted her redwood lipstick to Anna with the vital task of spreading good fortune.

But, of course, her target wasn't just anyone. It was Mikoto, the Red King. In Anna's heart, she knew that he deserved the best luck she could give under the perfect lip-shaped tag. Her lips weren't as plump and full as her big sister's, but she felt like when Neirah painted them, they looked more luscious than what Tatara had managed to achieve. With a soft sigh, Anna raised one of her red marbles from her pocket, looking at her reflection in the mirror as if intensely focussed. Then, she dropped her arm and returned her doll-like features towards Tatara. "Again," she suggested softly. "It should be perfect for Mikoto."

With a sheepish moan, Tatara tilted his faint smile to one side. "It should be for our King, shouldn't it?" He gently raised a moistened cloth to Anna's face and removed the rough application. "Nei-chan left a pretty important task to us, so we can't let her down."

From behind the rag, Anna quietly shook her head.

When he removed the fabric, Tatara popped the top off Neirah's vibrant rosewood shade of lipstick. He'd seen the print on a lot of their fellow clansmen over the years, and when he considered the smudges, his heart started to ache. Neirah had always mentioned that Anna would likely take over the tradition when she was older. Still, he couldn't help but worry that their young Strain was taking on the responsibility prematurely.

Despondent thoughts plagued his mind as he forced his smile, and he turned towards where the delicate creature before him had closed her eyes, puckering her lips for painting. The sight warmed his heart.

Their darling Anna was mature beyond her years, but even still, she was a child, and Tatara could tell that she looked up to her big sister. Izumo always reminded them that Neirah couldn't leave because she would be an invaluable asset in their lives as Anna aged. It would be important that Neirah returned for several reasons.

"She'll come back."

Tatara startled, his hand faltering a breath away from the eager Strain's lips. He recoiled his dye and watched Anna open her big carmine eyes over her faint, optimistic smile.

"This is her home."

Tatara couldn't help but choke on the palpitations of his heart as his cheeks flooded with the fond sentiment. "It is, isn't it?" he whispered.

"Oi, what is it you two are up to in-" Izumo gagged on the remainder of his statement when he was met with the innocent expressions of two eye sets matching his interruption like fawns in headlights. That wasn't what had staggered him, though. What put a twist in his belly was the sight of creamy red lipstick smeared all over his good white cloth. "Totsuka…"

Tatara rushed over towards Izumo's posture winding up to lash out at the pair to beg forgiveness. "I can explain!" He clapped both of his palms together and raised them over his head. "It's actually very important!"

As Tatara prattled out his excuses, Anna jolted to attention, her ivory cheeks darkening in pigment. "He's here." Her wide eyes shifted towards Izumo and Tatara as she parted her colourless lips with a nervous gasp. "Mikoto."

Izumo flinched unsuspectingly. "Is that what all this fuss is about?"

With a bemused look on his face, Tatara whirled to face Izumo expectantly. "Kusanagi-san! Did you forget that it's King's birthday today!?"

"I didn't," he argued strictly. "But what does that have to do with destroying my nice cloths?"

"It's tradition." Anna didn't falter as Izumo's attention shifted towards her faint interruption.

Izumo's eyes thinned on the sight of Anna's hands fidgeting in her skirt, and his heart softened. "That's right," he murmured. "Neirah isn't here for Mikoto's birthday this year, is she?"

A squirmy Anna slowly shook her head.

Surrender filled his expression as he heaved an aggravated sigh to let the pressure escape before speaking. "Well, can't argue with tradition," he conceded. "I can always order more cloths."

"Kusanagi-san," Tatara calmly interrupted. He waited until Izumo hummed his acknowledgment and shared his consideration. "Can you distract King for us? Just for a little while? Anna wants everything to be perfect, but I'm kinda out of practice with this makeup stuff."

Izumo felt the sudden urge to roll his eyes. "Really? Out of all the crazy things you get yourself into, makeup isn't one of them?"

Tatara swiftly shook his head. "Ten minutes. We should be ready by then."

Tipping his hands to either side in a shrug of surrender, Izumo turned away from their session. "Whatever you say, Totsuka," he yielded. "I saw nothing."

"Arigatō!"

When Anna caught the sight of her pale features in the floor-length mirror again, she gasped softly, realizing how dark her cheeks had become with humility. She noticed Tatara turning to dismiss Izumo's exit before shifting to view the child while she concentrated on her reflection. She continued to stare before reaching up and touching her cheek. "Red…"

"Are you nervous?" Tatara tenderly instigated.

Anna slowly nodded her head.

With a knowing smile, Tatara gently took her chin in his hand to turn her youthful features his way. "It'll be fine," he whispered. "It'll all work out."

Anna looked deep into Tatara's eyes while he held her face steady and began to smear the rouge over her lips. Because they weren't as luscious as Neirah's, it was hard to find the edges of her pout, requiring a mastery of the application that Tatara didn't possess.

However, as she watched him concentrate on his task, she noticed that his heart wasn't in it like it was with some of his other varied pastimes. He was distracted, and there was sadness in his eyes that she recognized from the last time Tatara was without his roommate. "Tatara… You miss Onē-san again."

Tatara had become used to Anna seeing through him, so he didn't falter when she announced his heart's predicament. Instead, he let his eyes slip from her lips to her concern before returning soft chestnut irises to the task at hand. "I'd miss anyone if they left. Even Fushimi-san," he instigated playfully. "It's just not the same if we're not all together."

"But Onē-san is special."

He attempted to avoid faltering even as his lips tightened, his sorrowful eyes focussing intently on his task. "Nei-chan makes me feel helpful," he calmly reasoned. "King worries about her sometimes, I know he does. And Kusanagi-san too." He let his head slip to one side as he attempted to redo the colour on Anna's top lip when it parted slightly. "She needs me, and when I'm there for her, it helps King too. That way, he doesn't have to worry about her."

Despite the melancholy of their conversation, Tatara found a genuine smile curling his lips as he painted Anna's. "I bet you've noticed it too," he reasoned soundly. "King pretends to be tough and scary, but he cares for everyone here. I can tell."

"Yes."

He leaned back, releasing Anna's face to admire his handiwork before determining that the vivid shade was weaker on one half of her lower lip. He addressed the inadequacy presently. "King may seem lazy, at times, but he wouldn't let anyone hurt his pride. That's why he needs his hunter, so he can watch over everyone while she keeps an eye on his territory." His expression faltered as he shuffled away from his work with a heavy sigh. "That's why it's my job as his vassal to make sure that Nei-chan will always be by his side. They're partners, you see. She will always be more useful to him than I am, so it's my responsibility to support her."

Appreciating that Anna was distracted by his story, he smiled tenderly and laid his hands on her shoulders, slowly rotating her to face her reflection. "It's important to keep a smile in our hearts, because that's what makes us strong; when we fight to protect our red memories. That's the true beauty of Nei-chan's tradition, because every year, it makes our birthdays special and gives us another smile to protect. So, Kusanagi-san didn't lie when he told Yata-chan that it makes us stronger."

Anna looked deep into her own eyes in her reflection, admiring how beautiful her lips looked standing out against her fair skin. The dazzling hue matched her irises, which matched their flame, and together, the shades highlighted the small smile that brightened her face.

Tatara leaned his head by her shoulder, smiling brightly at their combined reflections. "Well? What do you think? Better?"

Anna frantically nodded her head. "It's perfect," she gasped out mildly.

"Then what do you say we go and wish our king a Happy Birthday?"

Anna floated by his side, curling her fingers around Tatara's hand as he guided her through the room towards the doorway.

"Tatara?"

_Hm?_ Tatara paused with one hand in hers and one on the doorknob, tipping his inquisitive gaze her way. "What is it, Anna-chan?"

"I think you should say something about it in your song," she whispered. "About our smiles."

"You think so?" His expression softened with tender fondness as his grip on her small hand tightened. It had been a while since he felt inspired to work on his song with all that had happened. "What does it feel like, knowing that you're the smile this year?"

The hand opposite the one Tatara clutched raised to her chest as she thought about his question. "It's warm, like Mikoto's flame," she whispered. "And it should be protected." Thinking about it more intently, Anna gently raised her bright eyes to face Tatara directly. "That is what you do, isn't it? You protect the smiles by making sure everyone is together."

Stricken by her cunning realization, Tatara laughed proudly. "Wow, I guess I do," he mused. "Totsuka Tatara, protector of smiles!"

He reached towards the table next to the door and picked up his camera with a playful wink. "What do you say we go make some more, Anna-chan?"

She nodded certainly. _Hai~_

* * *

"Mikoto-saaan! Happy birthday!" Misaki raised his arms in a lively cheer, and his cheeks dusted pink as he badgered their king. "How old are you now, anyway!?"

"Old," Mikoto callously interjected.

"Is that supposed to be a joke," Izumo muttered grimly from behind his bar.

"Wait, you're older than Mikoto-san, aren't you, Kusanagi-san?" Rikio calmly theorized. He turned in his seat to face the aggravated barkeep with a humbled expression on his casual features. "By a couple of years, at least."

An involuntary twitch caused Izumo's teeth to grind as he considered Rikio's instigation. "Yeah, so respect your elders and drop it."

"Happy birthday, King!" Tatara entered the bar from the back, waving his hand next to his Nikon with a delighted beam. "Our little princess has a special gift for you!"

_Hm?_ Mikoto watched Anna start to trot lightly through the bar, and as she approached, he crouched towards her level with a curious hum. "You know, gettin' older isn't that special, right, kid?"

Anna looked into his eyes levelly for a long moment, watching golden embers flickering around the flame she knew was inside. She could tell that it wasn't easy for him to keep it contained, but she imagined that's why he needed the smiles that Tatara encouraged. If he saw the smiles of his pride, it would remind him that he had something to protect. That meant that he had to face his fears and every challenge ahead to make sure that those smiles could continue to shine as brightly as the fire burning in their eyes.

Without hesitation, Anna's fingers fluttered behind her with her skirt as she leaned to one side and gently placed her lips against his cheek. When she backed away from his surprise, she met his confusion with the brightest smile the damaged Strain could muster, silently promising herself she would continue to get better at it to remind him why he was important to every one of them.

Her ears dismissed the raucous jeers of their friends around them. For a moment, it was just Anna and her king, lost in each other's eyes while they communicated beyond what words could explain. Then, in a small voice, she cooed her gentle proclamation. "Happy birthday, Mikoto."

Tatara zoomed in on his camera, stepping around the pair with a mischievous giggle. "Anna-chan, look!" His finger slipped into the recording frame as he pointed towards the lipstick print left on Mikoto's cheek. "Do you see how perfect it is?" Tatara slowly tipped out from behind his viewing screen with a satisfied giggle, making sure that he caught Mikoto's fond smile on tape in case he needed to remind him he was capable of them now and then. "Nei-chan is going to be so proud!"

_You were truly the protector of smiles…_


	29. Kempt

_**I don't usually do this, but I just wanted to dedicate a special thank you to I Dream Therefore I Am and** **egerie187 for their continued support of this project. Their positive encouragement has given me the ambition I need to fight through this monumental project with undaunted enthusiasm. With your kind words in the back of my mind, I will bravely face the second and crucial half of A World on Fire.**_

* * *

**Kempt**

* * *

_It's funny what you think about when you spend weeks on end alone, or who you think about, that is. As it turns out, silence is the perfect state for contemplation, and I did a lot of that during my stay in Nagasaki._

_When it finally sank in that out of the few words my father managed to speak were to tell me how much I looked like my mother, I thought it would hurt. Shouldn't it? When someone meant to be closer to you than anyone else sees right through the person you've become, and into a different world like you're just not there… It made me wonder…_

_Where am I?_

_When I took the hand of my king, did I genuinely transcend a plane of existence that I can't return to, or am I still stuck somewhere in between? Was it fair to resent the man who helped bring me into this world because my eyes belonged to someone else that day? What actually matters at the end? When the path you choose finally crumbles away, where does that leave you and the person you've become?_

_Well, it leaves you where you fought to be._

_It's not a great theory, but between my king and my very best friend in the entire world, I'm starting to understand that who you are, what you do, and where you end up, all depend on one vital thing:_

_You._

_It would be nice to think I learned to live life without regret, but that's not entirely true. I guess I just learned how to deal with it a little better. What I walked away from Nagasaki with was a sense of self that I didn't seem to have before. Maybe we'll call it maturity, for simplicity's sake. The truth was that I kept considering the path I followed like it was truly laid out at my feet, but that wasn't accurate either._

_The path I chose is one I continue to forge in the flames of red memories._

_And if that flame ever goes out, that path will lead me to the smile in my heart, and with a smile on my face, I will bravely face the next world to come like I did those before._

_Because I choose to._

_It's not about being brave or having all the answers. It's about moving forward and always burning in the best way that you know how…_

_…entirely._

**_August 28th, 2010_**

Time continued to drag as Misaki waited at the centre table of a bar called HOMRA, his chin rested on the back of the chair he'd mounted with his eyes fixed on the quiet doorway. He stared through wild chestnut bangs that fell against his brow since he'd surrendered his hat to their lion, his promise to a friend that they'd wait, that he'd wait. As the minutes passed, his thoughts began to drift towards the cynical. One of Misaki's legs began to fidget with his increasing anxiety as he waited eagerly for the return of their comrade, who was absent from their lives for just over a month.

It was just as he thought it would be. Summer hadn't quite been the same. Every time he laughed, he felt guilty that she wasn't there to laugh with him. Then, when he thought about it, he worried that somewhere all alone in Nagasaki, she was hurting with nobody to help her smile. The stress had kept him up more than one night, and when he was distressed, Saruhiko was up and tolerantly annoyed with his prattling all night long. But he listened in a way that Misaki had forgotten Saruhiko could. Then again, it had been a while since the pair had stayed up all night locked in an over-tired state of consciousness, talking about hypothetical nonsense. It had been a welcome distraction.

But even as they approached their hunter's hopeful return, he couldn't get the knot out of his stomach. Part of that discomfort might have been excitement, but there was a good part of dread tangled up with it. Even though Izumo assured him that he wouldn't be driving Tatara out to the airport for no reason, he couldn't shake Saruhiko's insistent doubt.

From across the room, Saruhiko's dull gaze practically glowered at his enthusiastic colleague, growing more irritated as the energetic spring in Misaki's toes hastened. It seemed that the deeper he was in thought, the less control he had of his energy that sought an outlet outside of his comprehension. That wasn't abnormal for the young vanguard, but it frustrated Saruhiko to no end that he was acting that way over Tsukiyo Neirah.

In his opinion, Misaki looked like a dog at the door, anxiously wagging his tail for the return of his master, who wasn't gone more than ten minutes before his whining started. After almost thirty minutes of silent observation, an impatient snort hissed past his nostrils as he lazily climbed from his barstool, intending to interrupt his friend's episode. He didn't announce his presence any further than what he'd spoken from behind his fidgety cohort. "You have that look on your face again." His words rushed out exasperatedly, almost like it had taken him an effort to manage them under his breath. "Absolutely ridiculous…"

"Don't care." Misaki groaned curtly, burying half of his face in the arms he kept folded over the chair backing. "It's not like I can think about anything else. We _are_ waiting for Tsukiyo."

Behind Misaki's flustered figure draped over the furniture, Saruhiko conspicuously rolled his eyes outside of the ginger's notice. When he perceived the pace of Misaki's left leg quickening, he clicked his tongue and kicked the appendage out from beneath his mate entirely. "Stop acting so pathetic. It's annoying," he commanded. He'd told him a hundred times not to suffocate her with his attention, but there he sat defying his every warning. "You know, your life isn't going to end if she doesn't come back."

Annoyed with his best friend's detachment, Misaki straightened in the chair and whirled to face him. "You don't know that!" When he realized how desperate, and somewhat possessive, he unintentionally sounded, he titled his flushed face away with a dim scoff. "I mean, no body's just up and quit on us before. We're supposed to be in this together. It would be the same if any of us thought about leaving." When he took notice of how little everyone else seemed to care that he sounded overly attached to the woman, his humiliation only deepened. Of all the obstacles he wished he'd conquered in time for her return, the guilt of considering her a friend was one of them. It seemed like, in the end, he was the only one who was genuinely skeptical of his intentions.

An impatient hiss filled Saruhiko's voice as he tried to keep his words from sliding off his tongue maliciously. "That's not very nice. Shouldn't your _girlfriend_ be more important than just _anyone_ else?"

He and Saruhiko, that was.

Saruhiko's tone grew even snider as his displeasure amplified. "Isn't that why you can't handle the fact that she might not come back? They say your first heartbreak is the hardest."

Growing even more impatient with Saruhiko's instigation, Misaki climbed to his feet and threw his chair out from beneath him, rising on his toes in an attempt to meet the man nose-to-nose. "I don't care what you say, Tsukiyo won't turn her back on her place here at HOMRA! We're like family!"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko couldn't help but throw his head to one side with a bitter snort, narrowly stifling his full-body cringe. "Disgusting…"

Suddenly, Misaki and Saruhiko snapped their combined attention to where the front door flew open with urgency. Misaki immediately cocked a brow at the sight of a panting Saburōta heaving his exhaustion by the entryway. "Holy shit, man. Did you run here?"

It looked like it took a minute for their racing guest to catch his breath before he flopped his head in a lazy nod. "I didn't miss Onē-san, did I?"

By where he stood near the bar, Rikio's brow knitted incredulously. "No. Kusanagi-san only just left for the airport."

"Yeah right!" Misaki spun to face his summer-lean companion, choking on his bitter remark. "He's been gone for like an hour!"

"Like a dog in the window," Saruhiko muttered grimly under his breath as he turned to depart. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Misaki shook his fist towards where Saruhiko was absently abandoning him and returning to his corner to mope. "Oi, what'd you just say, Monkey?! Saruhiko! Get back here while I'm talkin' to you! Y' know, this is half your fault!"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't!"

"Guys, can we not do this right now?" Rikio quietly pleaded. He raised both hands, a distressed smile on his face as he attempted to calm the riled nerves set to explode. "Kusanagi-san would be pretty mad if he came back, and his bar was all messed up. Plus, Neirah's comin' home today. We shouldn't be fighting when she gets here."

"Why not?" Yō muttered his words flatly around the cigarette that he was trying his best to enjoy before the return of their hunter. "That seems like a pretty normal thing for her to walk in on. Wouldn't want her to think things changed while she was gone."

Masaomi snorted curtly in support of his audacious friend's proclamation. "It's true." He accepted their Zippo from Yō without redirecting his gaze, his smile curling around the smoke he was going to try and sneak alongside his associate. "If she wanted friends that were gonna clean up nice and be on their best behaviour for these sorts of things, she probably should've picked better friends."

A disheartened pout found Rikio's face as he pushed his fingers through his long blonde bangs and itched his crown. "I thought we were pretty good friends. I mean, Kusanagi-san even closed up the bar today and everything."

Misaki's bark drowned out Rikio's pained yelp after his fist collided with the back of the man's head. "Dumbass! We're great friends! Don't let anyone tell you anything else!"

Rikio groaned as he began to pick himself up off the floor. "But… why did you hit _me_ over that?" He felt like he was more durable when it came to Misaki's irrational lashings when he was carrying his winter weight. _Hm?_ His attention suddenly raised to where Anna was fluttering down the stairs, her shoes ticking across the hardwood as she floated through the hushing bar in a hurry. "Anna-chan? What's the matter?"

Without responding, Anna scampered to the front door and heaved to shove it open. _Mmph!_ Letting it slow her advance for only a moment, she was clacking down the walkway outside of the establishment a moment later.

A curious and somewhat concerned expression overtook Misaki's face as he considered the child's struggle. "Uh, should we go after her?" he suggested uncertainly. When nobody answered his open-ended inquiry, he turned to face their gathering with a pleading look in his eyes. "Is it really okay to let Anna run off on her own like that?"

Misaki thought his heart might stop beating when he tilted his head. Disregarding Anna's dash towards the door, he turned his eyes on the casual strut of their king, walking through a ring of smoke, a cigarette clenched between his smirk as he silenced their banter. A gentle hum mingled with a scoff as he stood before the interrogation of their eyes with one hand buried in his pocket, the other draped lifelessly by his thigh. "She's here."

The moment Misaki heard the sound of Tatara's cheerful laughter coming from somewhere around the side of the building, he froze. He didn't watch Rikio pick himself off the ground and dust his front. Instead, his softening expression melted into humbled concern when he observed the storefront windows. Tatara surely wouldn't have been laughing if Neirah hadn't returned. Adrenaline had been the previous culprit for hastening his heartrate. Soon, it was fading into anticipated relief when he caught the fleeting sight of Neirah bouncing around between her escorts with an excited young Strain.

He'd recognized her voice instantly, even if he hadn't heard it in far too long. She could be girly, at times, but there were still deep notes of a sultry woman in her tone that tended to creep out with her sarcasm and seduction. It made her sound utterly devious, at times, but it was unmistakably hers. As he recalled, she'd spoken to Yō on the phone once, along with a multitude of text messages. Rikio had heard from her twice. Once, Rikio even talked to her at their headquarters, which caused a deathly hush to eavesdrop. Nobody wanted to be the one to speak up and demand he pass the phone. They had a reputation to uphold, after all. That, and nobody knew what to expect after the woman met with her ailing kin.

Outside of that, Tatara and Izumo were the only other ones in direct contact with her. Unfortunately, either they didn't spill her secrets, or she made them take an oath of silence because, until that very moment, he still hadn't known if it was her returning. In fact, it was becoming harder to distinguish the woman as she approached, and that had a dismaying knot coiling his insides all over.

The woman approaching was wearing white, knee-high pumps over her black tights, a soft-looking knit top with a low-cut chest dusting halfway down her thighs. That wasn't too strange, given that Masaomi was the one who helped her arrange the ensemble, but when she came through the door clutching Anna's hand with familiarity, he was relieved that he wasn't the only one silenced.

Her smile was radiant, and maybe brighter than he'd ever seen it because he'd known for a fact that he'd never seen it broad enough to let a faint dimple hollow out her right cheek. Her complexion was a little darker than he'd recalled, noting that she might have gotten some time in the sun while she was in Nagasaki, and her cheekbones had a faint ruby tint to them as they topped her expression like bright cherries. But most importantly, her hair was styled in soft waves, highlighted with burning sun-kissed hues of crimson against a deep auburn base, and her bangs swept neatly to one side.

Then, he felt his temperature rise, his flustering increasing with every panting breath that raised the incriminating mark on her right, heaving breast. He didn't remember her like that. Suddenly, the dread began to slacken his expression again as her brilliant sapphire eyes scoured the room like she was confused by their silence, cocking one lean brow into the crook of her nose as she wrinkled it suspiciously.

"What's wrong?" Neirah tilted her fingers towards her bangs and gave them a nervous flick with her long sweater arms tucked against her clammy palms. "Cat got your tongue?"

Misaki thought that he'd once had a pretty good grasp on speaking to her, but the her that was in front of him wasn't the one who had left them a month prior. Something about that twisted his tongue into knots and made his heart sink. "Tsu-Tsukiyo…?" Misaki nearly squealed in alarm when Neirah's expression seemed to lock right through him, and when she started to lunge forward, he dove out of the way with his hands on his head. "A-ah! I-I'm sorry!"

But Misaki quickly learned that he wasn't her target at all. That came easily noted in the delighted shriek that pierced the bar as her spike heels announced her stampede.

"Ri-ki-ooo!"

Just as Rikio managed to resituate himself on his feet, he turned to the sight of Neirah's charge and lost the colour in his tanned face. "Nē-chan, wait-!" When Neirah crashed into his front, throwing her arms around his neck, he stumbled into a full rotation and fought his hardest to keep them on their feet. Maybe she looked a little different than when she'd left, but she still carried her reassuring cherry scent. He'd recognized it immediately. "Careful, Neirah. I almost fell!"

Once she had settled on her toes, nuzzling against him fondly, he returned her steady embrace with a relieved sigh. "It's good to see you too, but man, when I'm this size, it sure doesn't take much for you to bowl me right over."

"She's surprisingly heavy, right?" Before Yō could anticipate a reaction for the woman, Masaomi was beating him forward with the butt of his fist. His eyes were closed as he stubbed out his cigarette just in time for Neirah to turn her head.

"One of these days…"

But, she disregarded the situation entirely as she finished scanning the perimeter. "No Fujishima?"

Rikio tilted his head to smile down at her reassuringly. "You know how it is," he kindly reasoned. "But believe it or not, since our sleepover here at the beginning of the summer, his parents have been a lot more lenient."

"Of course," she pouted. "Just in time for me to leave."

A soft coo filled Neirah's voice with a song as she turned over her shoulder and checked to where something was delicately pulling on the ends of her styled ringlets. "Ah, Dewa-kun? Are you okay?"

The look of devastation on his face spoke volumes. "What have you done?" He whispered his words gravely like he'd suffered an unforgivable betrayal. "Your hair… Y-you chopped it all off…"

Neirah's nose crumpled a second time as she reclaimed her locks and carefully observed them. "I think you're being a little melodramatic," she reassured him. "It's still well past my shoulders when it's not kinked up like this. I just wondered what it might be like not to trip on it every time I sit down."

"I like it. It's hot." A wicked smile curled Yō's lips as he approached, brazen enough to keep his cigarette between his teeth when he did. He stuffed his palm onto Masaomi's face and shoved him aside, using him as a perch to support his flirtatious lean. Then, he postured like her reaction to his seduction might have changed during their time apart. "Seriously, though. It suits you."

That malicious tone that Misaki had recognized immediately came out in force as her thick lashes tapered over vivid shades of cobalt. "You know what would suit _you_?"

It seemed like pretty much everyone other than Yō could see how bad things were about to go when she let her face near his. "Yeah?"

When Yō fled backwards to the feeling of Neirah's flaming palm on his face, Masaomi had his revenge. From where Yō had toppled him, he stood firm, causing Yō to drop to the floor and pat out the flames Neirah used to incinerate the smoke he thought was going to be tolerated.

I guess that day was today," Masaomi hummed, satisfied with the results. "How I missed this."

"Yep. Still a dick," Yō growled intolerantly.

After raising from the sight of her flirtatious associate scrambling, Neirah tilted her head to one side to observe where Saburōta was remaining skeptically distant. "What's the matter, Wolf-kun?" She popped over Yō's groaning mass with a muffled clack and snatched Saburōta's sunglasses from his face. "You wouldn't believe it. I met our future daughter on the plane to Nagasaki." Her eyes smiled as she clumsily stuffed his lenses back on his face, crooked and haphazardly. "She has your eyes."

A dull groan filled Saburōta's chest as he fixed his spectacles. "You're not gonna let me live that down, are you?" He barked his agony when Izumo crossed behind him and clapped him upside the head, knocking his cap unstable next.

"I can answer that," Izumo drawled. "But I think you already know better."

Neirah immediately latched onto Saburōta's arm and dragged him against her front in defence. "Onii-san, I said no!"

"I said no first," he casually refuted.

Turning her flushed smile Saburōta's way, Neirah giggled softly against his side. "Did you miss me?"

Once he'd adjusted his hat again, he straightened himself confidently and reapplied his poised smile. "Yeah, but I didn't cry once because that would be totally unmanly."

Neirah slapped her cushioned palm against his chest with a proud chortle. "Good for you, Bandō, baby."

And his posture immediately slackened. "W-why…?"

Finally, Neirah turned to notice that Misaki had been unusually quiet alongside them. She'd expected it out of Saruhiko, for sure, but something about the look on Misaki's entranced expression troubled her. It made her feel self-conscious and vulnerable in a way that she still wasn't entirely used to yet. "You too, Yata?" She sighed softly and slipped her bangs back into place after her joyful reunion had knocked them astray. "I-If it's my hair, I can explain."

"I wouldn't waste your breath."

That _did_ surprise her. When she raised her alert gaze to the sound of Saruhiko calmly addressing her from where he lingered by the bar past Misaki's shoulder, Neirah's heart fluttered. "Fushimi-san?"

With an impatient scoff, he diverted his agitated expression in a way that only he could make look cool. "You weren't gone long enough to forget how dense he can be when it comes to girls, right?"

After trembling for a moment, Neirah's lips curled into a heartwarming smile. "Of course not."

Upon returning her eyes to Misaki, she quickly startled, feeling a little ashamed that he had flinched to the recognition of her sudden movement. With an eager grin, she pulled her shoulder bag in front of her, rummaging through it a bit before finding the article she sought.

The moment that Neirah reached out and offered him his hat in both quivering sets of fingers, he immediately locked his sights on her hesitant apology. It was at that moment that he realized she hadn't changed a bit on the inside, and somehow, that brought him more comfort than he thought was possible.

"Here." Her words nearly whispered as she offered him the hat that she'd stolen the night before her departure. "Borrowed and returned. Just like I promised."

Misaki was probably the one suffering the most blubbery reaction to her return when he reached out and dusted her fingers with his to retrieve the knit cap. When he returned it to his hands, he wrung the material to relieve some of the pressure building inside of him so he wouldn't burst into hysterics. And the moment he turned his eyes on hers, he saw the same look there that she had left him with the night before her trip. She was unafraid, ready to love and be loved without regret. It filled his smile with a positive influence even though his cheeks blushed rosy to consider how happy he was that nothing was going to change. Their hunter had come back to them.

After taking his sakura-scented cap in both hands to pull it over his brow, he choked out his mild retort through his unyielding smile. "W-welcome home."

Neirah's expression was moments from cracking when Mikoto interrupted the tender reunion by dropping his palm down on top of her head. When she tipped her head to connect their gazes, she felt the heat of his approval from her crown to her toes. Just when she parted her glossy lips to speak, she whimpered in surprise to the feeling of him roughly ruffling up her waves.

Misaki immediately ground his teeth, just imagining how much effort had gone into curling the amount of hair she had even after trimming it. He reached out with tense fingers like he was hesitant to stop him _or_ let him continue. "H-hah… Mikoto-san? I don't know a lot about chicks, but… I don't think that's a good idea."

When Mikoto finished abusing the labours of a dedicated stylist, Neirah peeked back at his cocky smirk with a bemused look on her flushed face.

"There," he muttered in a self-assured proclamation. "That's better."

Running her fingers through her dishevelled bangs, Neirah let them flop wildly between her eyes where he had jostled them every which way without consideration to her efforts, and that delighted her. All she wanted to do was thank him, but the only thing that could keep her tears from falling after that was to close her eyes and boldly stick her tongue out at him.

"Achem. Manners, young lady," Izumo instigated callously.

"I'm a lion, not a lady."

Yō dropped himself into a stool in hopes that he'd at least be protected from tripping hazards there. "Well, when you waltz in here lookin' like that-"

"Chitose-kun?" Neirah hummed mock-flirtatiously. "You're about to meet up with the deadly part of our love-hate relationship again."

Once his spirits had lifted, Misaki was falling right back into the rhythms they'd lost when their hunter had left them behind to find herself. "Is Chitose seriously the only one who doesn't remember the Chitose Incident of '08?"

"I'm so glad we made that a thing," Masaomi added devilishly.

Tatara watched as the room filled with laughter, the weight on his chest lifting to listen to the song of their companionship return in force. His world was complete once more as the circle gathered, his heart's song in full swing as he hummed the chords quietly to himself. They were one indomitable unit, and when a piece of them was missing, nothing seemed right.

He was surprised, for a moment, when he felt Anna's tiny hand slip up into his, holding it gently as she watched the event unfold. She could feel the tears threatening to fall from eyes that remained deceitfully dry. Through the tiny red marble that she held in front of her left eye, she saw secrets weaving threads and deepening the roots of the bond they continued to forge. "I told you she'd come back." Her voice was a gentle whisper as she slowly retracted her marble and met Tatara's loving gaze. "Everything is okay now. Onē-san is home."

"She sure is." He kept his voice equally as soft, allowing Neirah to enjoy the impact of the moment with the rest of her friends. He didn't want to be too selfish when he knew that she would be there when he went home again that night for the first time in far too long.

It was a beautiful sight to behold and made his soft smile intensify as he watched Neirah drape herself over Rikio's shoulders to escape Masaomi's reprimand. He reached for the return of his hat in vain as it flopped absently on her crown. He knew her new shoes were probably killing her tiny toes. They always did. "I should have brought my camera out for this. Everyone looks so happy."

To the sound of longing in his voice, Anna smiled softly. When she comprehended how much sentiment Tatara was withholding for the friend he dearly missed, she tightened her small hand around his fingers. "It's okay. It will make a beautiful memory." Her chest filled with a comforting warmth, reassuring her that their world was right again. "And it's a lovely red."

* * *

By the time the commotion had settled, Neirah was exhausted. It had been a while since she'd been the centre of attention, and, truthfully, she'd forgotten how draining it was. With a defeated sigh, she flopped into one of Izumo's barstools and laid her heavy head in her folded arms. Even though it was still unfamiliar, her sweater was so soft against her cheeks that it made her eyes heavy. "Okay, that was fun," she initiated. "But I think I need a nap now."

Tatara took a seat on her left side, leaving her king two places down on her right with Anna on his. "You can join me for my afternoon nap." Tatara could tell that the invitation was welcoming as she lingered quietly against the bar listening to the sound of their rowdy companions tease each other over ridiculous trivialities. Even if they decided to turn on her Wolf-kun, she didn't think she'd have the energy she needed to defend him.

Nearby, Izumo's brow jerked with traces of concern as he processed the man's unintentionally suggestive comment. "Totsuka, if I didn't know you any better, I might've lumped you in with Chitose for a comment like that."

Before Tatara could whine his defence, Neirah made a soft tutting noise to accompany her light smile. "It's fine, Tat-chan, Kusanagi-san," she kindly comforted. "To be honest, my sleep schedule has been a mess since my trip, so I should really tough it out and get it back together in time to start school again."

When Izumo tilted towards where she rested against the rosewood after speaking so casually, a proud smile curled his lips. "I sure like the sounds of that," he gently encouraged. "And your homework? Do you have plans to get that in order too?"

She raised slightly, half-lidded eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's already done."

His smile broadened. "Is it now?"

Giving a little nod, she straightened in her seat with a languid stretch that followed through to the tips of her outstretched fingers. "Cross my heart," she pestered. "I had a lot of time to myself when I was in Nagasaki, so I made sure I kept busy when I could. It prevented my mind from going to dark places on its own." The truth was that she knew she wouldn't have much time to cram in homework, and some much-needed roommate cuddles upon her return. She only had about a week to catch up with everyone, and she didn't want to waste time with things like math and science.

Mikoto was carefully watching them from a couple of seats down, his void expression seeming to pierce the conversation even as he absorbed it entirely. "How'd that go, anyway?" He didn't feel pressured by the three sets of eyes that fell on him once he'd invited himself among them, but he did work on correcting his vagueness. "You seem pretty happy since you got back. How's the old man?"

A doubtful flicker crossed Neirah's cheerful expression for the briefest of moments before she offered him a kind smile. "He slipped away shortly after I arrived. He was already too far gone by the time I showed up for me to offer much in the way of comfort, but… I guess I'm glad he held on long enough for me to say goodbye."

Her king could tell that Tatara and Izumo were already privy to this information by their downtrodden and guilty expressions diverting. He otherwise didn't show a distinct reaction to the, not entirely unexpected, news. "That's too bad," he murmured evenly upon shifting his eyes over the liquor stock behind their bartender. "Sorry to hear."

Neirah immediately shook her head to deny his sudden concern. "No, you shouldn't be." Unlike her king, she did feel a little distressed by the three expectant gazes to linger on her despite her best attempts to avoid the attention. "To be honest, I feel like that should have hurt more than it did. But, for whatever reason, I'm alright with the way things turned out. It turns out that I didn't have a lot of love left for him… I may as well have been a complete stranger."

After scrutinizing her unchanging expression for a moment, Mikoto carefully pried deeper into the situation. "You okay, kid?"

"I am! Honestly!" Normally hints of her disdain could be distinguished in her shifting expression, but this time, not even Anna could pick up traces of her suffering from where she sat quietly on the opposing side of their king sipping her milkshake. Comprehending that it might be difficult for her friends to accept, Neirah lowered her tone to make it seem less like she was covering up a gloomier story. "I know that it might seem hard to believe right now…" A reminiscent smile livened her expression as her cheeks highlighted with a coral blush. "But I think I'm just ready to move forward."

Mikoto watched a knowing smile cross Izumo's face, and after absorbing it, he closed his eyes and let his curl with a hum of consideration. "I guess that would be pretty hard to do if you were cursed, right?"

A wry look crossed Neirah's face when she cut her tapered leer his way. "How astute you are, King-sama."

Mikoto groaned below the sound of Tatara's spirited laughter tittering away on Neirah's opposing side. "Humour me, why don't ya?"

With a humbling sigh, Neirah's expression softened with fond sincerity. "I'm not cursed." Her voice was a near-whisper, and she almost repeated her words just to solidify their meaning in her heart. "I made a friend in Nagasaki. I even shook her hand the day we met over a month ago."

"I see how it is," Izumo sassed. "Maybe it was the blood, after all."

Hushing his superior with a gentle hiss, Tatara waved his hand towards the man to stifle the provocation. "I don't think now is the time for that, Kusanagi-san. Nei-chan is having a serious moment."

After fondly receiving Tatara's support, Neirah continued to address their king. "Her name is Kobayashi Asuka, and she lives in Isahaya, Nagasaki. She was in Tokyo looking for work because she, well, it's kind of personal." She turned her friendly smile towards Mikoto's curiosity. "But the thing is that she seemed like she was happier when I left. Like I somehow made her life better." She almost laughed at how ridiculous it seemed for her to consider how bleak and cynical she used to be. It all seemed so far away. "That would also be pretty hard to do if I was cursed, wouldn't it?"

Mikoto nodded his head like he was confirming something, and then he climbed to his feet. The effort caused Anna to gasp inquisitively by his side and pop her lips away from her straw before giving chase. When he turned, he neared their resident hunter, and his casual grin lingered even with his intended departure. "That's good to hear."

"Where are you two off to?" Izumo pestered.

Mikoto seemed confused at first when Izumo addressed him as a duo, but that was when he felt Anna slide her fingers between the belt loops of his jeans. _Huh?_ A deep sigh passed his lips as he shrugged off the company. "I'm goin' out."

"Well, since you're up." Izumo pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and unfolded some bills before passing them off to Tatara. "Wanna grab me a pack of cigarettes while you're gone?"

"E-eh? But Kusanagi-san, King is the one who's-"

"Thanks, Totsuka." The bartender didn't bother connecting their gazes. Without words, all four of them comprehended that he was trying to isolate himself with Neirah. He didn't bother raising his eyes to the sight of Tatara hesitantly standing to follow his king after sparing Neirah a worrisome glance in parting. It was clear that Izumo didn't feel the slightest guilt for his actions.

When Mikoto and company had moved towards their intended departure, picking up a couple more additions on their way across the bar, Rikio lingered for a moment and took notice of a lonely Neirah remaining behind. Concerned that she was feeling anxious about her return, he began to approach with the invitation to join their party. "Oi, Nē-chan, aren't you-?" Noticing Izumo raise his hand before Rikio could even near, the subordinate caught the underlying message transcending words.

"Hey, Rikio! You comin'?"

Rikio turned to where Misaki was beckoning him, and then looked back towards the bar where Izumo encouraged him to depart with the remainder of the group. "Uh… yeah, I guess."

Catching the sight of Neirah lingering, Misaki's brow tensed incredulously. "What about Tsukiyo?"

Quick to rush out a supportive response, Rikio interrupted Misaki before he could call to the woman. "Ah, I think she's just tired from her trip. We should probably let her rest a bit."

"Oh, uh, right. Sure thing." Tipping past Rikio's guard, Misaki waved towards the bar in parting. "We'll be back soon, Kusanagi-san! Tsukiyo!"

"Have fun," Izumo hollered evenly. Once he watched the gathering depart, careful to notice that even Saruhiko had joined for the trek, he smiled with a relieved sigh. "Wow, talk about taking one for the team. Even with being so off-putting, that Mikoto sure does attract all kinds, doesn't he?"

Neirah offered up a light chortle of amusement to his scheming. "That wasn't even the slightest bit sneaky."

"Who's being sneaky?" he derided. "Besides, you looked like you needed a break from the mayhem for a little bit. So, you're welcome."

Even though her tone was low, her voice was lively with enthusiasm. "Believe me. I'm not as out of practice as you think. Yashi-san is uhm… well, she's a little wild. And after my father passed away, we spent a lot of time together. She showed me around the prefecture." She gave her flattening locks an instigating flick as she considered the effects of the humidity on them. "This was the product of her energy, too. She convinced herself that I had to come back with a _new look_, for whatever reason, so we had a girl's day." She turned her beaming gaze back towards Izumo with a cheerful glow on her face. "I've never really had a girl's day before."

"That's not true," he defended playfully. "You and Anna go out all the time."

Neirah sighed to dismiss his insinuation. "But Anna-chan is young. Too young to enjoy spa resorts or talking about boys."

Izumo's expression dropped with suspicion. "Did you two ladies do that often?"

She waved her hand to dismiss the topic as if she had misspoken, even though it was hard for her to do anything but, considering her family's contents. "I'm just saying. We didn't go to a spa either because her mother is a hairdresser. It was just an example."

"From what I've heard, this Kobayashi seems like a pretty fun young lady."

"She is, and having her there with me in Nagasaki was a huge relief. I was sad to leave her." She tipped her furrowed expression towards her host with a tender smile. "It made me think about what I might want to do when I attend college."

Once he'd closed his eyes, Izumo's smile broadened with expectant pleasure. "I was wonderin' when we were gonna have this talk. So, you think you've finally figured it out?"

"I want to help people." She diverted her eyes to avoid the pressure of Izumo's enquiring expression. She could only imagine how ridiculous it sounded coming from the lips of an ex-assassin. "When I met Yashi-san on the plane, she opened up to me. She told me things that… I don't think she says to a lot of people. Maybe she felt more comfortable because I was a stranger, but whatever the case, admitting some of these things to me seemed to help her." She reconnected their gazes, a bashful heat flooding her cheeks as she continued. "It reminded me a lot of Tat-chan, except, our roles were reversed."

"That was unexpected," he admitted frankly. "I thought you liked fixing things?"

A heart-wrenching expression filled with hesitant ambition smiled up at him as she considered the developments of her life over the past few years, and he could see the mark it had made on her clearing conscience. "I do," she admitted confidently. "So that's why… I thought I might try my hand at fixing people as broken as I was when Tat-chan found me that night. I mean… not everyone has a Tatara."

"Okay. I'm impressed." Even though Izumo's chest ached with pride, he tried to keep his excitement muffled by his generally lax demeanour. "That was a real mature thing to say, Neirah."

"Thank you," she nearly whispered. "I sort of had an idea before Nagasaki, but Yashi-san helped me see the potential. That's why Okazaki-san and I were working so hard before I left with our studies. I've got… a lot of catching up to do…" She cleared her throat awkwardly as she tipped her gaze over her shoulder towards the vacant storefront. "Speaking of Okazaki-san… I don't suppose he maybe came by while I was gone?"

Izumo's expression dampened with misery to consider the last time the pair had interacted. "'Fraid not," he admitted bleakly. "The place has been pretty quiet around here since your last little tussle out front."

"I was afraid of that," she whispered distantly. "He isn't answering any of my messages either. I can't help feeling like that was just another one of the sacrifices I had to make to move forward. It seems like somebody always has to suffer."

Izumo fussed behind his bar but tried to remain supportive as they conversed. "Try not to let it get you down," he kindly reassured her. "Okazaki's a pretty durable guy. Yata-chan literally knocked him in the teeth with his skateboard, and he still came wanderin' back into the lion's den." He clasped the lid and base of a stainless-steel tumbler in either hand to secure it before letting the contents mingle with ice. "Besides, you know how he is. Once he sets his mind to something, you just can't keep him down."

"He was so patient with me," she muttered sadly. "Even if he hates me from now on, I'd just like to take a moment and apologize for being so hard on him. He deserves to be thanked for supporting me, not exiled."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance." After pouring his mixed contents into a tall cocktail glass and garnishing it with lime, he slid the concoction across the bar with a mischievous smile. "Here, I want you to try this for me."

A quizzical expression seized Neirah's face as she glanced at the glass that he'd slid in front of her. The liquid at the bottom was a cherry red, but it faded into a blood-orange gradient as it approached the sugared rim of the cup. "Wait, didn't you just-?"

"Yep."

"With-?"

"Sure did."

She eyed him expectantly as she leaned forward and tentatively sniffed the offering. "But… Kusanagi-san, I'm only eighteen."

"That's why you're not gonna tell anyone else about it," he assured her in mild command. "But I suppose, today's kinda special, isn't it? And I'm closed up for the day, so it should be alright." He reached out and nudged the drink forward. "You're just talking like such an upstanding young lady today that I'm havin' a hard time treatin' you your age again."

Neirah's pigment bashfully darkened as she pouted her mistrust. "Onii-chan is being suspicious."

"They call it a Lion's Tail," he interrupted with a reassuring smile. "I've started teaching Totsuka how to mix drinks so that he can run the place for me while I'm away. He seems interested enough, but you know how he is…" His voice trailed as he diverted his worrisome gaze. "He just moves from one thing to the next, y' know? Sometimes I worry about that kid. He wasn't quite himself while you were away. I figured I had to do something to keep him busy or morale was gonna plummet around here."

He tried to lighten up as he carried on. "Now, don't ask me why, but when I started this, the first thing he did was try to imagine what sort of drink he'd mix for you when you got back. I told him not to worry about it because you're still underage, but he laughed it off like you know he does and then pretended like it was all theoretical."

Feeling inspired to take the offering without repercussion, Neirah tangled her fingers around the crystal stem and slowly slid the mixture towards the edge of the bar. "But then, why are _you_ making it for me instead?"

"I just didn't think it would be something you would appreciate, given your tastes," he admitted with a weak chuckle. "I suggested a White Russian, seein' as it's mostly cream. But he insisted." Izumo seemed despairing when he picked up a glass and a terry cloth to polish it. "He said it reminded him of a red sunset and made that sound important. Then when he found out that it had 'lion' in the name, there was no talkin' him out of it."

Neirah let a small and appreciative smile creep over her face to consider the offering. "There are people out there who take the time to appreciate things like that…"

"He just got so into it, raving about how perfect it was, and all that. But if you didn't like it, after all, he would just go on smiling like everything in the world was just right." He heaved another weighted sigh with bleak notes sounding in the exasperated gesture. "But, you know how he is."

Neirah's stomach began to bind with unpleasant knots as she considered the drink presented. She could tell that Izumo was worried about her friend, but it was hard to confront him about his troubles when all he did was assure you that everything was fine. Something had obviously happened while she was away. "So, you wanted me to try it with you first so that if someone wore it, it would be you and not him, is that it?" She laughed lightly with her spirited prompt. "A noble gesture."

"I don't expect him to make it for you anytime soon, but if I'm still coaching him for a while, I might be able to slide him some constructive criticism to make it more bearable for you when the time comes. I've already added more syrup to make the base redder. He and Anna-chan agreed that was important."

"Nothing is more important than red," she whispered earnestly.

Izumo slowly turned over his shoulder and watched her dip her finger into the glass to taste the tang of lime surfacing in the layered cocktail. He smiled when she screwed up her face. He knew that she wouldn't be pleased with so much lime. "I think you and him need each other," he admitted vaguely. "I'm not really sure how I mean that, though. I mean, you and him have always had somethin' strange goin' on there. He calms you down, and you keep him focussed. But take one of you out of it, and things just fall to chaos."

"Kusanagi-san is taking it too seriously."

"Maybe," he muttered vacantly. "All I know is that things are better when you're stuck like glue. So, stick around… for my sanity's sake, at least."

Neirah cast him a sardonic leer over her impish smirk. "Don't worry. I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I need Tat-chan in my life more than he could ever need me, so, whether he likes it or not, I'm going to stay by his side forever." She said the words confidently.

A faint grin was brightening Izumo's expression as he turned and watched her take a sip of her drink. "Forever's a damn long time, y' know."

Through her knotted face, she still managed to look happy. "_Keh_… sour," she coughed. "Is there something longer than forever? If there is, I choose that one."

"Yeah, somethin' strange for sure," he murmured. "So? What d' ya think?" Izumo's breathing hitched in his throat the moment he turned to see a stray tear crawl out of her darkly framed eye to slide over her cheek and meet her smile. _E-eh?_

"I think Tat-chan is the most thoughtful person in the entire world."

Izumo's throat burned as he comprehended her vague response, but he was glad that he caught no more than a single tear glistening against her skin. "I… kind of meant the drink."

"Me too." A faint snicker squeaked past her lips as she considered her first sip. "At first, it was sour and off-putting," she admitted delicately. "But the syrup made it kind of sweet, and then it leaves you with a nice warm feeling on the inside." Her eyes sparkled with an endearing sentiment as she turned her tender smile towards him. "And I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

Hearing as Neirah scrutinized the layers of the traditional cocktail humbled Izumo in a way that he hadn't expected. When she put it to him so bluntly, he felt a little silly for ever suggesting that she might not enjoy it. Maybe she didn't like sour flavours, but there was certainly something in that glass that she could appreciate, and Tatara knew that from the beginning. _Huh…_ Izumo diverted his attention, a sheepish grin on his lips as he stared across the bar with runaway thoughts. "I guess I didn't have anything to worry about, then, did I?"

"Maybe it tastes better because I'm just so happy to be home."

"Yeah… Yeah, that might be it," Izumo admitted mildly. "Welcome home, Little Lion."


	30. Kingdom

**Kingdom**

* * *

_**Later that Night**_

Time seemed to act differently between worlds. When Neirah lingered in the mortal world that had initially rejected her, it seemed to multiply in length. Every minute was an hour, every hour a day. That was what made Nagasaki seem to last a lifetime. But as soon as she walked through the fire, time seemed to half, and there was never enough of it. The afternoon had vanished in what felt like seconds, and the only reason she knew that _any_ time had passed was the memories left in her heart with the smiles of her dearest friends. Just catching up with the crazy stories of their shenanigans was enough to chew up most of the day, so it was a relief when not a soul asked her about her stay across the country. She wasn't ready to talk about it just yet.

Soon, but not quite yet.

The superhuman hour was late, and the moment that the front door to their apartment opened by Tatara's command, Neirah bolted through the threshold like a bullet train darting straight towards her bedroom. "I'm hooome!" With arms wide open, and a relieved smile, she leapt into the air before flopping face-first on her neatly arranged sheets. A delighted squeal hitched in her aching throat as she nuzzled her face against her pillow and kicked her feet out behind her. She couldn't remember ever feeling so thrilled to see a bed in all her life, and she'd spent the majority of her middle school days on the streets.

Her heart was racing, and an appreciative tear tickled her eyes as her excited squeal threatened to congest her with the sentimentality. "I'm home! I'm home! I'm home!" The longer she spoke, the more choked her voice sounded with appreciation. "Oh, Tatara. I swear I don't know why I ever left."

She had spent too long in empty hotel rooms, too long away from the comfort of the only family she felt an attachment to. Maybe she had desensitized to things like death thanks to time spent on her own in a cold world, but she couldn't consider it a scar just yet. She didn't think it was fair to tag herself soulless simply because she couldn't cry over the loss of a man she'd barely known. Factually, if it weren't for Himari's stories, she might not have known anything about the man who was supposed to raise her.

Tears that day would have been selfish, because the moment he laid tired eyes on her, she was her mother. The last thing he would want to see was tears on the face of his angel. Instead, she felt comforted that, even if it wasn't his daughter who held his hand in passing, she brought him peace. If nothing more, she was grateful that he lifted her curse the moment they said goodbye. The weight that left her heart that day opened up another valley in her ever-changing and expanding new world. With sky and earth boundless, she was overwhelmed with a freedom that she'd never dreamed achievable.

Her sheets smelled fresh, and after being gone for so long, she also took notice of the way Tatara's musk had taken over their apartment. The woodsy cedar notes made her nose twist with a discontented calm. It was too soothing. In her opinion, they needed a sweet little flair to put spring into their steps as they roamed the rooms. So, like a territorial beast, she wriggled in her blankets to spread her honied sakura scent. Their home wasn't home unless it felt like an enchanted forest.

Neirah's room had always been the smaller of the two because, even after Tatara had offered years prior, she assured him that she didn't mind. He had more belongings to store anyways, and since then, they just began to spill over into their shared quarters. The entire interaction was entertaining, though, considering that she tended to feel claustrophobic in tight spaces. But within that constricted area where she laid her head down at night, the faces of all her friends watched over her with welcome smiles, smiles that she had missed for the entire month she was away.

When she tipped her head in her pillow to scan the mural on the partition, her cheeks dusted pink, and her beam grew genuine with endearment. Almost all of the images that she had shared with Asuka were there in small 4x6 sheets climbing from floor to ceiling. It was just a matter of filling in the blanks now, as the years ticked on.

A giddy mewl sounded in her throat as she flipped the flap of her shoulder bag over and pulled out a new face to add to the wall. She didn't have a tack, but when she stretched her arm out, she was able to slide the photo between a cluster of three more. The image featured two lively, laughing faces, Neirah's head pulled into Asuka's chest as they overlooked Nagasaki's capital from Inasa-yama Park. The skyscape was beautiful that evening. Not red, but beautiful. Her feet began to hasten in their pace as they struck the mattress beneath. One day she would force Tatara to come with her so he could see it too. He had an eye for such lovely sights.

Suddenly, both of Neirah's feet flopped dully against her bed, and she silenced with her face in her pillow. Her heart rate had begun to quicken as she slowly raised her head to recheck her surroundings. It was just as she thought she'd noticed in her cursory examination. Not only had her bedding been cleaned, but her room had been organized. That typically wouldn't have stricken her as strange, but her thoughts thundered on a wild stampeded to the sound of her heart as it sank to a painful suspicion.

She quickly turned to face the small corner desk she'd kept in her room for quiet studying, noticing that its contents had been rearranged as well. With a nervous gasp, she threw her head over her shoulder the moment she saw Tatara's shadow block the light filtering through her open bedroom door. The once-lively and optimistic glistening of sapphire gems began to fade as her wild gaze observed him carefully. His smile remained like it always had, but his brow was creased with hints of heartache. She was instantly filled with regret.

When Tatara's sad eyes met hers, he knew that she'd already realized what he'd seen. Even still, a soft hum filled with pride for her keen senses slipped past tight lips as he tried to force a brighter smile, something to reassure her that it wasn't as bad as she thought. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done when he had spent so long harbouring his feelings of dread. "Ah, I hope you don't mind, Nei-chan," he started bashfully. "The other day, I was so excited for you to come home that I cleaned up your room so everything would be fresh for when you got off the plane." His tone softened when he began to comprehend that she wasn't taking his bait. "I'm sure… you'll sleep really well tonight after all the excitement."

Neirah slowly sat up in the centre of her mattress, folding her legs beneath her without looking away from him. "Tat-chan… did you happen to clean up some books on my desk."

Guilt began to stir within him as he diverted his gaze away from the tenderly illuminated room. "It was dusty," he whispered. "I didn't want it to look like you hadn't been there for a month…"

After unfurling her legs, Neirah quietly tucked them against her chest with a gentle sigh. She stared into the sheets she'd disturbed, familiar heat flooding her face as she waited for the right words to come to her and broach the subject. "I was going to tell you," she meekly settled on. "It was just hard to find the right time." Hating how uncomfortable the silence had become, she quickly raised her head, a pleading expression on her face begging his understanding. "And, I mean, there's no guarantee that I'll even be able to maintain marks eligible for enrollment. It's… it's not going to be easy this late in my studies…"

Even though his heart was heavy, Tatara forced his feet to move to her bedside. He reached over and flicked on the lamp on the side table and made himself comfortable in preparation to hear her out. "You're acting so guilty all of a sudden. Last time that happened, I found out you were sent to kill me," he teased positively. His demeanour humbled when he realized that she wasn't finding his dark humour amusing this time. "But you know, I think Kusanagi-san would be proud if he knew. Have you told him yet?"

She quietly shook her head in denial. "I only just told him today that I think I've finally figured out what I want to do when I attend university, not that I'm thinking of studying overseas."

Tatara let out a soft chortle and curiously tilted his head to one side. "I see, but why England?"

The flush in Neirah's cheeks darkened as she folded her arms over her knees and buried the lower half of her face to muffle her words. "I don't really have an answer for that," she whispered nervously. "It was just a thought..."

Leaning his hands behind him on the blankets by her front caused him to startle. His fingers touched her socked feet as her toes curled into one another and reminded him of her discomfort. With a knowing smile, he reached out and took one set of toes into his lap, starting to work out the aches of being on her feet all day. He wasn't brave enough to rouse the subject while she was irritable. "I don't think it's entirely impossible. You speak English really well, maybe even better than Kusanagi-san."

Neirah remained quiet, but he could feel her contentment as his fingers worked against the sole of her foot. Maybe it was a little naïve of him to consider the language barrier her only pending obstacle.

"You know, he's been to England," he continued softly. "Kusanagi-san has travelled to lots of places in Europe. France, Germany… Did you know his bar is actually imported from-" Suddenly, Tatara felt Neirah snatch her toes away so that she could curl into a little ball in the centre of her bed. That was when he heard her first delicate sniffle, and his guilt escalated. "Ah, Nei-chan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snooped."

She shook her head, gently at first, but that very quickly accelerated. "No, it's my fault. I don't even know why I was looking at such ridiculous things," she grumbled in a tone battling dismay. She wasn't going to let it get the best of her this time. "I wouldn't even be able to apply without taking my SAT and IELTS. I'm almost in my third year already, and I've never even considered studying for something like that. I'm so far behind. And then there's the thought of spending so much time away from Tokyo-"

A small moan slipped past her lips as she unsteadied her ball-form enough that it could topple into Tatara's lap. "No… From right here," she corrected. "Just spending a month away from this place was almost too much. Can you imagine… years?"

Neirah closed her eyes when Tatara slid his fingers through her roots, and even if she felt pitiful for finding comfort in being pet, she didn't chase him away. "Please don't worry about it, Tat-chan," she whispered. "Actually, I think it's pretty funny that I had to consider studying abroad to have any hope of being as capable as you are at helping people."

"You say that, but I know that you've always wanted to make Kusanagi-san proud," he tenderly teased. "Can you imagine the look on his face if you showed him an acceptance letter from all the way across the world? And you could still come to visit during your breaks."

"It was just a silly suggestion," she reiterated sternly with a furrowed pout. "I doubt I'd be able to keep my marks high enough for acceptance _and_ worry about keeping King-sama's territory in order. Priorities, Tat-chan."

"Well… maybe Kusanagi-san is right."

To the sound of Tatara's reassuring tone, Neirah raised from his lap and connected their gazes with a sinking heart. Typically, he was. Izumo was an intelligent individual, but something about Tatara's insinuation worried her.

"Maybe Nei-chan is better than that. Maybe she's destined for bigger things."

"Please don't say that." Neirah had barely heard her own words as she spoke them swiftly to deny him. "This is my place. This is where I belong."

"And that doesn't have to change just because you go away for a little while." A soft sigh crossed Tatara's lips as he turned his vacant gaze towards the decorated wall across from him in the small room. She'd lined her walls with photographs that she'd gathered from all sources so that she never felt alone. She had always been more comfortable when she was surrounded by the people she loved. "But you said you wanted to help King, right?" His tone lowered as his lashes dipped tenderly over his soft brown eyes. "What if this could do just that?"

Neirah seemed staggered by his suspicious suggestion. "What… do you mean by that?"

"I know you're teasing when you say that you think you need to study abroad to help people like I do, but I'm far from perfect." He turned his optimistic expression back towards her enquiry. "I still worry about King, sometimes," he murmured softly in admittance. "He has nightmares about his powers taking over, and I know it's hard for him to face the things he sees." Tatara's spirits dropped to consider his greatest failure. "And he does it alone. It's so hard to get him to just open up about it."

His voice seemed to crack with disappointment when he considered how helpless he felt to take the pain away. "No matter how hard I try, it just doesn't seem to matter what I do. I can't help him face those demons. But maybe if you go through with this and can learn to understand these types of things, maybe you can finally make the nightmares stop for him."

"W-wait," she whimpered mildly. "A-are you suggesting… that I try to apply?"

Tatara was quick to throw his hands out and wave them wildly between them. "Well, I'd certainly prefer if you picked a school on this continent, but that's completely up to you, not me." He reached out and gently apprehended a lock of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder. It was soft, and Masaomi was right, it was quite a bit shorter than he'd remembered it. It made a nice distraction from his roving thoughts. "Besides, you know that no matter how far you go, I'll always be here waiting for you to come back."

He knew that Neirah had caught the falter in his fidgety touch on her hair when his thumb dusted fiery highlights. He watched her eyes flicker alertly, scouring his expression for sincerity, but no matter how badly he wanted to reassure her, he felt helpless to do so. He felt defeated, and it was his turn to ask her for help. "I really believe that you and King were meant to find each other, Lion-chan," he whispered. "And I know you can do better things for him than I ever could. That's why it's my job to support you no matter what, so you can help him in ways that I can't."

The sound of her palm cracking against his cheek was loud in the cluttered room, and in the silence of the evening hours, his suffering seemed to echo. Neither of them made a sound outside of their skin connecting, but as Neirah stared at the sight of her handprint reddening his face, her hands began to shake with regret. "Don't say those things." Her words were so weak that she knew he hadn't heard her first trembling whisper. "Don't you dare talk like that. Not you." She reached out and took his face between her hands and held it tight to keep his head steady, his gaze locked with hers. "I'm sorry that I left you for so long, but don't you dare talk like you're somehow inferior to anyone here."

His face hurt, but not nearly as bad as his pride. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't feel significant enough to make a difference in their king's life, not like the others. Finally, his smile faded, and he lingered limply between the warmth of Neirah's soft palms. Sometimes, it was the place he felt safest. "He deserves better…"

Neirah shook her head a couple of times before leaning forward and touching their brows together. This time, their roles were reversed, and she was the one who needed to comfort him. "He doesn't want better," she whispered lovingly. "He wants us."

They were his pride, and she could feel that. Sometimes, communicating meant more than what language could convey. It was the thoughts, feelings, and actions of their friends that reassured her when she was down, not what they said. "Ever since I met you, King-sama has been your world like you've been mine. I promise you he can see that. Because I've seen it." Since the night she'd faced her ex-employer, she'd noticed the way Tatara's smile was able to tame restless hearts. And it wasn't just their king's. It was their entire clan. "You're such a beautiful fool," she gently reprimanded. "You have no idea how important you are to us."

Being able to open up to his best friend waived the burden from his heart that was keeping him hesitant during her time way. Just like their king, he had a front to maintain in the eyes of their friends that only came down around her. Maybe that's why he had such faith in her; because she understood that he and his king were more alike than anyone else would have ever had the chance to notice. "I missed you." His words were weak, but his smile had finally returned as he took comfort in the lost familiarity.

"Baka," she whispered fondly through a cracking grin. "I'm the drama queen around here, not you. Fushimi-san said so."

"If Fushimi-san said it, then it must be true." A couple of entertained snorts exchanged between them before their hiccups were becoming faint sounds of laugher. He was relieved when they were able to share a laugh even through the mushiness. "I guess this is the maiming that you always warned me about, huh?"

"Tat-chan, this is nothing compared to what you deserve some days," she teased. Even as she fondly ribbed him, her tone remained tender and slightly rueful. Desperation finally settled on Neirah's humiliated face as she pulled away from him and gently stroked his wounded cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you, but you startled me. This just isn't like you." Her heart warmed to the sight of appreciation on his face for snapping him free of his delusion. "Still, you don't deserve that kind of abuse."

His goofy smile spread as he reached under his left arm and gave his side a reminiscent rub. "It's certainly better than a knife to the ribs."

Neirah's face twisted into a humiliated pout, and she began to slam her balled fists against his chest repeatedly. "Don't remind me! You know that was a bad time for me!" She continued to pound away, but the mock assault was gentle and whimsical in approach. "Prepare for that maiming that I've always promised!"

With a knowing smile, Tatara caught her flailing wrists and settled her raving. "I know, I know. It's fine," he kindly reassured her. "I'm fine."

Her heart fluttered and broadened her appreciative grin a moment later. "Yay! You're right again!" she serenaded. "And you've given me hope that if I ever have to maim Chitose-kun, it might actually fix him!"

"Oops! Sorry, Chitose!" After sharing a mild laugh with his roommate, his cheeks warmed with bashful heat as he released her to raise one hand to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Nei-chan. I didn't mean to make you sad on your first day back. That was pretty selfish."

"Tat-chan is not selfish. He is the exact opposite. Haven't we been over this already?" Neirah leaned behind her seat and grabbed her pillow, clutching its malleable form between her arms in her lap. "Just don't let it happen again. Tat-chan is my whole world and taking away that smile he keeps in my heart would be bad for your health."

Sweat beaded on his brow when he turned his sunny smile to face her. "You remember everything, don't you?"

She swung her nose up into the air snootily. "Yep. That's why it's bad for your health to make me angry. I can go from kitten to lion in ten seconds flat."

Tatara's expression flattened with his skepticism as he reached out and poked the tip of her high nose. "And right back down to kitten just as fast," he teased. "Nei-chan sure is interesting."

Wild eyes locked on his innocence, a fire burning behind them that betrayed her true intentions. "Are you calling me strange?! The nerve! Your insolence shall not go unpunished!"

Tatara yelped when she grabbed her pillow and whacked him with it a couple of times, both of his arms raising to defend against the battering. "Ah! My apologies, fair valkyrie! I'm not worthy! Please spare me your wrath!"

"Lies!" she barked. She raised to her knees and continued to thwap him into her mattress with her weaponized cushion. The edge had fallen out of her voice as the snuggly kitten returned in force. "Take it back! My prince is the most handsome and kindest prince in the entire world! He's perfect, I say! PerfectPerfectPerfect!"

Laughter began to make Tatara's sides ache as he defended against her hysteric assault. "Okay! Okay, I take it back! I take it back!"

His entertained baying was quickly silenced by the rush of air to escape his lungs when Neirah tossed herself against him next, in place of her pillow. The pair collapsed onto the bedding, and when he stopped laughing, he noticed that Neirah's expression against his chest had grown sombre once more. "Neirah…?"

"He's the very best," she mumbled possessively. "And I love him so much…" She kept her eyes diverted as she fisted the front of his shirt to steady herself. "I won't ever leave again until I make him understand that…"

Tatara immediately humbled, craning his head to watch her silently bury her face against the shirt that she clenched in both hands. Soon, his reassuring smile returned, and he laid his palm against her crown to comb her tousled waves away from her rosy face. "There, there… I thought we were trying to make King feel better, not me?"

"I'll do both," she defended childishly. "Somehow, I'll make you both realize that you need each other as much as I need both of you, and we're going to smile and laugh forever and ever. Who needs some fancy school in England when I have my Tat-chan and King-sama?"

"What about Kusanagi-san?"

"Onii-chan doesn't count. He yells at me when I sit on his bar."

A relieved sigh escaped him when he laid his head back on the blankets and closed his eyes. Everything was right again since his partner returned, and they prepared to face the world without fear. "Lion-chan? Would you be angry with me if we… talked about King for a bit?"

Nothing had changed. No matter what, they would always complete each other, and Neirah couldn't be any happier. "Tat-chan, I've never been able to stop you before."

His smile broadened peacefully as they just lingered in the soft lighting of the room, enjoying each other's company. "Well, when you were away…"

* * *

The room was dark, which was normal during the hours where the night flirted with the morning. It was that awkward state where nobody really knew what to say. Those who were just waking for work would call it the morning. Those who were still awake would refer to it as night. Misaki was one of the later. Even though the room was dim, he kept his half-lidded gaze locked on the sight of his hat between his fingers. It was raised above his head as he laid on his back against his disarrayed sheets. What little lighting there was to be had revealed the dark silhouette, and it was the only inclination he had that it was there.

But it was funny, the more he stared at it, catching the faint cherry scent from its fibres, the more he stopped seeing it as a hat. It was a promise, and he supposed that was what he'd intended all along. But something about Neirah's lingering scent and his tired train of thought warned him that his promise was meant to endure.

She was still nervous, and he could see that the moment he took back the article in his hands that night. Her life was changing, and although she put on a brave face, he could see the apprehension in her smile when she looked at him that day. Something about the weight of that moment felt important to him, but of course, he'd be the last one capable of deciphering a woman's intents. Still, as far as he was concerned, she spoke the words as clear as day straight from her heart.

_Wait for me._

He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he certainly didn't need a hat to tell him what to do. Then, he had to consider whether she was speaking to their clan as a collective, or if the unspoken words were meant just for him. It was utterly absurd to think that HOMRA's hunter was begging for protection, but he couldn't help feeling like the test of their faith wasn't over.

Then, if he ignored the cryptic message that he'd received from her that afternoon, he'd stumble upon something even more disturbing. Since the day he had first cowered behind Saruhiko to avoid her piercing leer, things had changed. He'd actually managed to consider her a friend that he'd give anything to defend whether she needed him or not. That was the part that he tried to avoid. It was hard to ignore society's expectations when she looked at him so vulnerably, but he was sure she'd done that with the others at some point or another too. It frustrated him to think that he was the only one of them that didn't know how to deal with it, though.

After shuffling for the umpteenth time, Misaki dropped the hat against his face to muffle his dull groan before slapping his arms limply down by his sides. Something about her springtime aroma was comforting in a way that was simpler than the philosophies he struggled to comprehend, and maybe a part of him believed that he didn't need to understand it. With a humbled expression displaying, he gently dragged the soft material away from his brow to consider it, and then after a moment of silence, he closed his eyes and touched the weave to his lips. For a quiet moment, he was just grateful to have her in his life.

"You're kidding, right? She _just_ got back. Quit acting like she died."

When Misaki diverted to face the sight of Saruhiko flopped upsidedown over the top bunk and glowering at him without exhausting the effort to put his glasses back on, he panicked. At first, he wanted to pitch the accessory at his head, but the part of him that tried to hide it and pretend that he hadn't been caught red-handed was more influential. "Stupid Saruhiko! Don't scare me like that!"

"Trust me. You don't know stupid until you've seen your face when you're thinking about Tsukiyo."

"Oh, screw you!" He quickly sat up in the dark and watched Saruhiko disappear back over the ledge again, his trademark dissatisfaction marked in the clicking of his tongue. He didn't even know how it was possible for Saruhiko to see what his face looked like from on his perch, in the dark, and without his glasses on. It made him question the man's credibility. "You're right. She _did_ just get back. Aren't you happy?"

From above, Saruhiko's tone flattened as he hoisted his comforter back around his shoulders and turned his nose into the wall. "I was happy when she left."

Misaki closed his eyes and snorted his derision. "Ch' yeah, you were," he mocked. "I still gotta kick your ass for that too."

"Go to sleep, Misaki."

Twisting his face up into a sheepish knot, Misaki opened one eye and watched the edge of Saruhiko's bunk for his return. When he didn't show, his tone softened with his suggestion. "Hey, since you're up-"

An exasperated sigh heaved past Saruhiko's lips to interrupt the prattling below. "The only reason I'm awake is because every six and a half minutes, I hear you sighing all starry-eyed over Tsukiyo."

"Oi! What d' ya mean _six and a half_? Are you fucking timing me up there or somethin'?!" The crimson pigment in Misaki's cheeks deepened as he sensed the blood-chilling effort of Saruhiko rolling his eyes topside. "Creepy bastard," he muttered under his breath.

Surrendering to the silence, Misaki flopped onto his side against his pillow, his eyes falling back on the hat he'd stuffed away from Saruhiko's judgment. When he watched his fingers move to touch the knit pattern again, he growled lowly and confidently snatched the comfort. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he rolled onto his opposing side and addressed his irritable companion. "You know what? Fuck you. I know you're awake anyway."

Saruhiko's eyes flew open, and just as he was about to open his mouth, he heard Misaki's hands and feet clicking against the rungs of the ladder leading his way. "Misaki, don't you dare come up-" He whirled just in time to face his other half's irritable expression defiantly popping up over the edge of his sleeping arrangements. "Geez, even a dog would listen better…"

He immediately flopped onto his back and dropped his forearm over his eyes. "I spent a lot of time fixing that watch for you. Why don't you do me a favour and check what time it is."

"Late," Misaki snapped without indulging him. "Or early, whatever."

"You spent all that time missing her, and now that she's back, what?" Saruhiko growled lowly and rolled back onto his side to avoid Misaki's persistence. "It's like I'm stuck in a bad rerun of my worst nightmare."

His friend's dull groan actually caused a devilish snicker to escape Misaki as he folded his arms over the top of the ladder and laid his head in them. "Really? Tsukiyo's your worst nightmare?" he sassed. "She's pretty harmless if you're on her good side." Which Saruhiko was, for one reason or another.

As Saruhiko stared into the wall by his nose, his chest expanded with the subtle heaving of breath marking his frustrations. "If only you could hear how ridiculous you sound," he mumbled impatiently. "Back when you first met her, she might as well have been a demon. She was no more than a vicious animal good for nothing but killing."

After a disgruntled snort, Misaki's edge returned in force to conceal his bashful guilt. "Yeah? Well, I got over it."

"Lucky me," he droned in retort.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Misaki instigated dryly. "Didn't you see how happy she was when you said something to her today? Even after you made a complete _ass_ of yourself the night before she left."

"Yeah, that kind of backfired, didn't it?"

"Idiot! Tsukiyo really cares about you! Why can't you see that?" When Saruhiko didn't respond, Misaki groaned lightly with impatience. There was still a hint of bitterness in his tone as he continued. "Or do you just not give a shit?" It was clear that if he wanted to carry on the conversation, he would have to alter his approach. One thing remained factual about his friend, no matter how much time had passed. If he didn't want to talk about something, he didn't. So, to avoid being stonewalled, Misaki softened his tone and altered his approach.

After ignoring his tired friend's negative attitude, Misaki settled a bit and proceeded to express his thoughts. "Say, Saruhiko? What do you think it would have been like if she really never came back?"

Even if Saruhiko had realized that his clumsy comrade was trying to trick him into opening his mouth again, he couldn't help but let the snide remark roll of his tongue. "Quiet."

With a weighted expression, Misaki cut his impatient leer towards the raven-haired instigator. "Are you saying it'd be quiet without her here, or are you telling _me_ to be quiet?"

It took everything Saruhiko had to pretend to be mad and stifle the amused snort that almost broke his cover. "Whatever makes you go back to sleep."

Misaki pouted impatiently. "I'm being serious…"

Saruhiko flopped onto his back again and dramatically dropped his arms by his sides. "This again? I can _literally_ feel you suffocating her with this conversation. And you wonder why I didn't try to stop her."

"Don't push it!" Misaki warned him sternly. "Don't forget that I heard what you said that night. You did more than just not stop her." His tone softened again once he tilted his gaze at the sight of his toque balled up in his hand. "I'm just curious what you think it'd be like. It doesn't have to be Tsukiyo. What if it was me? What if I just left HOMRA and never came back?"

"I thought you said you were serious?"

"Okay," Misaki ground out bitterly. "What about Kamamoto or Chitose?"

"I don't know." He said the words, but what he really wanted to say was _good riddance_.

Misaki's tone elevated again with his annoyance. "How do you not know? You always have an opinion about everything else."

"What do you want me to say, Misaki?" Saruhiko whinged intolerantly. "She left. She came back. Just give it up already."

Despite Saruhiko's diverted expression, Misaki's lips warped into an entertained smile. "I want you to say that you'd miss her."

"Fine, I'd miss her."

The sheer detachment in Saruhiko's void attitude made Misaki's fists clench with the harsh remark. "Like you mean it," he nagged.

Maybe it was the inhuman hour at which they conversed, but when Saruhiko suddenly sat up in bed, he'd nearly startled his cohort right off the edge of the ladder. "Okay, I'd miss her." He could feel the pressure of hazel eyes watching him, and the longer the silence pressed, the harder his molars ground against each other. He said it, and even if Saruhiko wished Misaki couldn't, he knew his comrade would pick up the sincerity that he wasn't expecting to accompany the remark. Partially with shame, Saruhiko lowered his voice like he initially wasn't intending on adding anything else. "And I… don't know why."

The silence continued, and the pressure was making Saruhiko uneasy. He didn't mean to blurt out something so condemning all of a sudden, but he couldn't take it back. All he could do was pray that Misaki didn't press the issue. The truth was, if it were anyone else, he wouldn't have cared in the slightest. But Neirah wasn't anyone else. In a way, she'd always had a tendency to complicate things.

When he comprehended how incriminating his statement was, he immediately gathered his blankets and dropped back onto his side, turning away from Misaki's prying stare. "There, I said it," he grumbled bitterly. "Don't ask me why."

Misaki's expression softened as his grip relaxed on his hat. "Because you're friends."

Saruhiko's grip on his comforter tightened as he burrowed deeper into its coziness. "I don't need any more friends..." he muttered distantly.

Satisfied with his nuisance, Misaki rolled his head to one side and looked out over their modest apartment. He was okay with dropping the subject. He was satisfied with the response he'd received. "Still, it's kinda weird to think about it," he murmured thoughtfully. "It's different from when we were kids. Kamamoto and I were friends when we were growing up, but I feel like it'd be different if one of us left now."

_Stop talking_, Saruhiko mused despondently. But in the end, his partially agitated tone came out softly with his warning. "Just go to sleep..."

"I wonder what Mikoto-san would do," Misaki pressed. "I mean, he practically hand-picked all of us-"

"Shut up!"

Misaki flinched, slowly turning his distracted gaze towards the sudden outburst of his usually monotonous friend. He had rarely heard him raise his voice, and for him to erupt so suddenly had Misaki's brow furrowing inquisitively. He must have been drained. "Uh, okay sure."

Saruhiko pinched his eyes tightly together. _Of course, now he listens. _In the end, he managed to look like the villain. Misaki didn't understand, and he wouldn't. There were times that Saruhiko doubted he even had the capacity to. In a lot of ways, Neirah and Mikoto were the same, but they were different, and they left him with two very distinct feelings in his heart, just like they'd left two very separate loves in Misaki's.

He buried his face up to his nose, his chest aching with how rapidly his heart began to race with violent impatience. He lowered his tone, but he made sure his words still rumbled like a command off his tongue. "Just go to sleep, Misaki."

"Okay, yeah." Conceding defeat, Misaki started to climb back down the ladder towards the floor, passing only momentarily to address the cocoon of blankets once more. "Goodnight, Saru, or… morning. Whatever."

Saruhiko lowered his tone, feeling empty the moment he realized that Misaki had departed towards his own nest below. He wasn't sure whether he was addressing Misaki's question or returning his sentiment, but he muttered his rebuttal all the same. "Night…"


	31. Kawasaki

**Kawasaki**

* * *

_**September 17th, 2010**_

The low and sporadic rumble pattern rattling in Izumo's pocket had alerted the occupied bartender to an incoming call, resulting in his attention dropping from the eyes of his lovely lady customer. Silently hoping for a much-anticipated call had him eagerly dismissing the conversation at hand. "Excuse me." With a softly inquisitive hum, he tugged the device from his pocket, checked the flashing screen and noted the picture of the icy bleeding-heart image to flash an intimate contact. "What could you possibly want at this hour?"

After offering his customer a polite smile, he shuffled to the side and accepted the urgent call. "I'm sorry to cut this charming engagement short, but I've got to take this." He was relieved when the woman raised her purse into her lap, blushing over her enchanted smile as she laid out the sum of her bill. He considered it as an apology accepted. "Kusanagi here," he spoke into the mobile against his ear. A bright smile marked his farewell to his coy early-afternoon patron as he returned her delicate wave with his own. "Please come again."

The amusement in his tone was far more genuine as a satisfied groan muffled to the sass that immediately spilled over the other line. "Hold on there, Seri-chan. I have a hard time keeping up with you when you talk that fast." He reached into his breast pocket with a teasing chortle and withdrew his concealed smoke. One of his brows arched to hear her continue as wildly as he'd suggested against, his lips pinching his cigarette between his teeth. "Really?" The yammering continued as he flipped open his lighter and pinched his PDA between his head and shoulder. "Uh-huh. Oh, they did, did they?"

He shook the flame out of his lighter and inhaled the filtered toxin. "What? Of course, I'm listening." A rumbling laugh stirred within him as he relaxed against the liquor shelving behind his bar, off to one side as he watched the door for approaching cashflow. After another moment of indulgence, he removed the light from between his teeth to speak clearly. "Now, let me stop you right there," he respectfully interrupted. "To be fair, we were here first." More razing. "How am I supposed to know? He liked the view at sundown? Come on, Seri-chan." He nearly choked on his next inhale of smoke as she threatened him over the line. "Awashima-san," he half-heartedly corrected. "To tell the truth, that might've been my fault. HOMRA's home. It's the heart of our pride. It just wouldn't be the same if we were anywhere else."

Izumo's expression grew keen as he touched his face around his poison and shifted his scan around his quiet bar early that afternoon. "Yeah, well, I try." He listened to the story spun on the other line for a moment, taking notice of how few of their members had assembled. Actually, there was only one to notice; just one. "If he's found his way into Mikoto's territory, then I wouldn't worry about it too much. You know how he operates."

His expression faltered as he watched Tatara flip through some sheets in a small notebook, and a distracted piece of him wondered what the boy had gotten into this time. Whatever it was, it seemed to have an awful deep crease in his brow beneath light brown bangs. "Try not to think about it like that," he gently reassured his raving acquaintance. "Consider it like a favour instead. You work too hard, anyway. Y' know, you should let me take you out sometime." A musical chuckle filled the quiet bar as he watched HOMRA's vanguard approach. He wasn't going to have much time uninterrupted, it seemed. "Well, however long it takes. Us HOMRA's can be pretty insistent when we want something." His flirtatious grin twisted as he tried to turn the tables on the woman playing hard to get. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out."

That was when their conversation ended in its typical, unsatisfying fashion with the sound of a dial tone honking in his ear. "Hello?" He heaved a heavy sigh and disconnected his line in return. Even though he flashed signs of disappointment, his warm smile didn't fade. "Damn, but the things you do to me, Seri."

"Kusanagi-san! Good morning!"

Izumo raised his palm, his PDA still in his grip as he offered Misaki a mild wave. Despite the clock having ticked past noon, Izumo didn't chastise the untimely greeting. "Morning Yata-chan. Heard you boys ran into a little _interference_ the other night. Looks like the blues aren't your biggest fans right now."

"Oh yeah?!" Misaki knotted his face and tossed his nose into the air. "Well, they can kiss my ass. That bastard was on our turf, so Saruhiko and I dealt with him. Those idiots only got in the way." He reached behind him and knocked his knuckles against Saruhiko's chest to encourage his support. "Right, partner?"

Saruhiko's fleeting gaze scanned the empty bar in thought before he droned his unenthusiastic response. "At least they don't look as ridiculous, stumbling around like armed morons," he instigated. "Some of them can actually use their swords now."

Even as his nose wrinkled, Misaki remained confident in their defence as he popped his skateboard behind his head and clutched it there with both arms. "Sure, but we told 'em how it is."

A casual smile lit up Izumo's expression as he watched Misaki seat himself square in front of him. "And how was that?"

Carefully, Misaki reached down and leaned his board vertically against the side of the rosewood bar by his feet. "That Shizume is Mikoto-san's territory, and when shit goes down, it's none of their damn business."

Izumo's attention followed Saruhiko when the dark-haired vanguard intended to claim his usual seat at the edge of the bar by his lonesome only to find out that somebody had already taken it. "I bet that went over well." Izumo's gaze watched Saruhiko consider how near to his typical seat Tatara was, his train of thought apparent as his face altered with disgust.

"What's all this about, anyway?" Misaki snorted curtly. He checked to see where Izumo's gaze was fixed on Saruhiko instead, and when Misaki took notice of his friend's distance, he redirected his holler. "Oi, Saruhiko. Why're you sittin' over there? S' pretty rude when we're havin' a conversation, don't you think?"

_Tsk._ Saruhiko had contemplated his excuse, but in the end, he was grateful for Misaki's clumsy diversion. "I just thought it was better to leave the good seats open for the paying customers." That sounded nicer than admitting that he didn't want to take part in the conversation anymore.

"I appreciate that," Izumo perceptively interjected. He tried not to pressure Saruhiko into fleeing when the man finally made up his mind that he would prefer to join them over sitting by Tatara, even if Tatara hadn't taken notice that the pair had joined for all his scribbling. "And I'm not sayin' that you boys were in the wrong here, but you should at least try to give the hard-asses their space, know what I'm saying?"

A loud thump briefly attracted Tatara's attention on the other side of the bar when Misaki's balled fists rattled the oiled surface beneath. "Oh, come on, Kusanagi-san!"

"Yata, I don't need you out there starting an all-out war between clans," he smoothly reprimanded. "It's bad enough that Mikoto can't keep it in check around that new blue king. If the rest of you start, we're going to spend more time fighting amongst ourselves than actually getting any work done."

"But-"

"It won't happen again." Saruhiko ignored Misaki's wild and disappointed glower burning with rejection as he fiddled with his PDA. As far as he was concerned, the only thing separating them from the criminals they hunted anymore was their sense of purpose. Most days, he still wasn't entirely sure what that was, but he always hoped to hold himself to a higher standard than the thugs they regularly silenced. After a moment of consideration, he slowly rolled his tapered leer into his peripherals to meet Misaki's agitation. "Right, Misaki?"

Defeated, Misaki slumped in his seat, tilting to fold his arms over his chest. "Man, you guys suck…"

A fond expression softened Izumo's command. "Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts." When he heard the bell chime on the storefront entryway, he straightened and jerked his smoke from his face to douse its smoulder in a tray behind the bar. "Well, well, they're comin' in droves now," he sassed.

He pressed both palms on the counter in front of him as his eyes met with the refreshing sight of their hunter's devious smile flashing with mischief. She had just finished with her classes for the day, but she'd already arrived in their midst with her favourite leather jacket gaping open around her lean torso. And, despite the shopping she did before Nagasaki, she decided that she still preferred her denim with slices in the thighs. "Look at you, all done up like you're somewhere you're supposed to be."

Neirah tossed her wild locks over her shoulder with a curt snort, her unkempt bangs jostling as she threw her head with them. "I don't always come right here after classes," she drawled sardonically. "Sometimes, I like to shower and change before showing to disrupt the peace."

"Is that disruption math homework?" Izumo's smile broadened as she jerked her math textbook from her bag so swiftly that it looked like she was waiting for his cue. "Snarky little brat."

After observing Tatara's silent scribing, she knowingly smiled and left him to his purpose. Instead of interrupting, she clipped towards the gathering by the bar front, her new spike-style heels a little less dramatic as they crossed the hardwood floors. She liked her new boots. Once she'd broken them in, they were almost comfortable.

After spinning in his chair, Misaki offered Neirah a friendly smile in welcome. "Hey Tsukiyo, what's up?" He grabbed the edge of his seat with both hands between his spread legs, his expression eager. "Got any good tips recently?"

"Yata…"

Misaki flinched, recoiling to the sound of Izumo's tone hardening again. "I meant about useless shits causin' trouble in Mikoto-san's territory… jeez."

Neirah smiled, capturing the edge of Misaki's cap to give it a playful tug over his eyes. "Yata, you know that all my intel filters down through Kusanagi-san. If I told you, I'd break the chain of order." Her smile tenderly softened as she considered the sheepish blush colouring his cheeks as he sniggered devilishly to her teasing. "Believe it or not, we still have some of that around here."

A teasing grin stole Misaki's face as he tipped his horizontal palm to his brow in a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

_Tsk._

After cocking a brow to the instigation, Neirah slowly turned her amused expression to where Saruhiko was already regretting his seating arrangements. Considering that he might feel left out, she let her textbook fall to the counter in between them and spread one set of lean fingers over the glossy cover illustration. "Fushimi-san, I don't believe we've had a proper date since I got back from Nagasaki." Her heart fluttered with the challenge in his tapered leer as she looked down her nose at his resistance. She slowly pushed her workbook across the bar towards him. "If you have nothing better to do, I thought you might indulge me."

Saruhiko narrowly stifled his impatient snarl when he watched Misaki raise as high in his seat as he could to peek over Neirah's shoulder. Unfortunately for the ginger vanguard, he couldn't get more than his eyes to show. His curiosity still made Saruhiko's teeth grind. "They're not dates…"

Izumo sniggered softly from where he whisked a cloth from side to side on the bar surface. He always enjoyed listening to the banter the two shared. Neirah was relentless with her approach to their hostile loner, and that hadn't changed since her return. "Neirah, stop picking on him. You know he's not interested."

Neirah almost seemed insulted by the way the two denied the romantic engagement of their study session. "How can you say that? And after we made it all the way to second base."

Misaki flinched, one eye wincing as Izumo's polishing hand slid out from beneath him, leaving his front to topple over the countertop. Despite that realization, Misaki's meek smile remained as he continued to bounce behind the fiery brunette. "Ah, Tsukiyo? If you want Saru to live long enough to help you study, you probably shouldn't make it sound like _that_."

Neirah turned her feigned innocence over her shoulder, her index finger touching her naïve pout. "What? Is _second base_ not another way to say _chapter two_?"

Misaki's impish chortle only made Saruhiko more impatient with the situation, so to keep it from escalating, he reached out and snagged her textbook. After he dragged it off of the bar, he shuffled through the storefront and approached a quiet table towards the back corner. "Come on," he spat out irritably through hints of his exasperation.

"Ah yes, leading me to a secluded place, just the two of-"

"If you don't shut up, this will be the part where I kill you."

"Oh, Fushimi-san, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Misaki remained lively, his expression casual as he twisted in his seat and led his eyes from his departing friend to his superior. His expression immediately faltered to the sight of Izumo keeled over like he was in pain and staring vacantly into the polished woodgrain. "Oi, Kusanagi-san, are you okay?"

"That little brat's gonna be the death of me."

The young vanguard sniggered and turned to observe where his friends had already started their studies. Not only that, they'd barely begun, and Saruhiko was already hitting her on the head with her pen. "I know, it's crazy, right?" he instigated brightly. "I mean, who woulda thought that of all people, Tsukiyo would be the only other person Saruhiko can stand to be around."

Relaxing, Izumo returned to rubbing down his prized bar with an instigating smirk. "Jealous?"

Immediately snorting, Misaki turned his displeased glower over his shoulder. "Not you too," he growled. "Look, I just said that girlfriend stuff because Tetsuko was being a dick. Ch' ye… Like it's any of his business anyways."

Izumo's curiosity didn't falter. "I meant with Fushimi."

Seemingly startled by the insinuation, Misaki quickly jolted to attention in consideration of the distant pair. "What? No way," he passionately refuted. "I think it's awesome that someone else can put up with him the way I do. It can be hard to tell sometimes because he has a pretty crappy attitude when it comes to people, but Saru's really great, and I think Tsukiyo can see it too."

His smile broadened beneath his flushing cheeks as he bravely challenged the curious barkeep. "And remember when I said Fushimi was always gonna be there first? That doesn't mean Tsukiyo can't be there too. I think it's fine- well… it was a little weird at first, but it's fine now." His expression softened with tenderness for a moment when he rolled his head to one side to observe where Saruhiko was trying his best to look irritated even though Misaki knew he appreciated Neirah's company. "It's kinda complicated to explain, but Tsukiyo's pretty patient with him even when he's a jerk to her, and I think he appreciates that. I guess that's why we can all be friends."

A hopeful sigh escaped Izumo's nostrils as he took a moment to appreciate Misaki's blind optimism. "That a pretty thought, you have there, Yata-chan."

Despite the colour in his cheeks darkening, Misaki threw both hands behind his head to hold it as he turned entirely to meet Izumo with his sunny smile. "It's a work in progress."

When Misaki opened his eyes again, a soft hum of acknowledgment sounded from behind his interested pout. "What's Totsuka up to, anyway? He hasn't said anything since we showed up."

With a quiet sigh, Izumo joined Misaki in watching Tatara continue to huddle over his work. "Hard to say," he drawled. "He showed up here earlier then I did, picked his spot and hasn't moved since. I asked him what he was doing here so early, and I think he forgot how to use words when he answered."

_Hm._ Misaki gave an indifferent shrug before turning away entirely. "Whatever it is, it must be important."

A faint smile caused Izumo's expression to warm. "You know how he is," he murmured kindly. "He's obviously picked up something else, so all we can do is wait and see how long it lasts."

* * *

It had been over an hour since Misaki had watched Saruhiko and Neirah take to studying, and frankly, he'd been bored out of his mind. Somewhere along the line as time passed, he'd rested his head against the bar, keeping his arms flopped over the sides of his seat as he snoozed. He figured that a power-nap never hurt anyone.

But unexpectedly, the building's attention immediately redirected, Misaki's the most violently as he heard the rumble of a revving engine rattle the windows of the storefront. Wild eyes burst open as the vanguard shot upright to the disturbance, and when he threw his head over his shoulder towards the front door, he took immediate notice of the developing kink in his neck. He immediately winced, groaning in pain as his palm reached towards his nape to ease the burning tension in strained muscles. "Ah, shit… What the fuck was that anyway!?"

Over the dedication to his trade, Izumo tilted his gaze from his on-tap pour to face the same ruckus. "Sounds like a bike. Not a common thing to be heard around these parts at this time of day, though."

"Yeah, no shit," Misaki derided. "That asshole's gonna get it for makin' me twinge my neck like-!"

"KYAHHH!"

Misaki flopped over onto his side, startled a second time by a screeching Neirah as she threw her chair out from beneath her with a clatter. Luckily, he managed to narrowly catch himself on the bar ledge just in time to prevent him from biting it. "Fu- Tsukiyo!? You too!?"

When Izumo passed off the filled glass to a patron in exchange for his yen, his brow furrowed with entertainment to the sight of Rikio joining them through the front door looking proud enough to fill in the blanks. "Son of a bitch got that old hunk o' junk runnin' again."

Misaki's bemused expression wandered to the sight of Tsukiyo as she rushed to join their new arrival, which was taking her hands in his to settle her excitement. "For real? He and Tsukiyo 've been workin' on that thing since forever ago."

In a fluster, Neirah couldn't contain her enthusiasm as she rushed to the window to observe the functional motorbike in front of their headquarters. "Rikio! How come you didn't tell me you managed to get it running while I was away?!" She could hardly contain her elated squeal. "It was running! You drove it here! You-" Suddenly, her brow creased with her travelling thoughts before she turned back to face him inquisitively. "Ah, actually, how did you-?"

Without another word, Rikio pulled a card out of his pocket and flashed his brand-new license her way. "Heh, just got it today." When her smile broadened, his cheeks dusted with pink as he held out his second index finger to bring her attention to the picture on the card. "And thanks to all this heat, I got to be skinny for the picture."

Misaki's tone and expression flattened simultaneously, growing even more resentful that it had been Rikio's fault that he wasn't sure if his head was attached anymore. "Dumbass. The cops 're totally gonna drag you to jail the first time they catch your fat ass ridin' that thing."

Rikio immediately whirled to face him, disdain on his lean features as his lengthened golden locks dusted his cheeks upon his spin. "Oh, come on, Yata-san! You don't have to be such a jerk about it! I was really excited too…"

Interrupting their banter, Neirah shrieked and jumped into the fray, apprehending his card. "I can't believe you actually did it." Her voice was soft, but her eyes were glowing as she admired his licence between both trembling sets of fingers. "I'm excited _for_ you."

A playful smile stole Rikio's face as he straightened and directed his stance her way instead of towards a bitter Misaki. "Well, you can be excited for you, too, if you want." The pressure of her large blue eyes piercing him with intrigue almost made him crack, but he settled for preparing his ears for her squeals if she lost her wits in the next minute or so. "I _did_ promise you that we'd go for a rip as soon as we got it fixed, right?"

The entire room could tell that she was bottling her anticipation and trying hard not to erupt as she stared back at his face and searched it for sincerity. In the end, she snapped her teeth down on her lower lip to stifle her elation, slowly turning to face where Saruhiko was waiting for her to return. He answered her heart's dilemma when he snorted softly and flipped her textbook closed.

"Finally," he grumbled. Although he hated to owe anyone anything, much less Rikio, he was grateful for the distraction. "Just go already."

Neirah immediately jolted her pleading gaze towards Izumo, her last obstacle, and her heart raced out of control. "O-Onii-san… can I please…?"

Izumo's chest ached with endearment as he hitched his hands on his hips and sighed defeat. "Neirah, I don't think a heard of stampeding cattle could stop you now." But he was thankful she asked. "Go on," he surrendered warmly. "Get out of here, you two."

She finally let out an ear-splitting cry that forced Misaki to cover his ears. "Thank yooou!"

After she winded her driver by thrusting his returned license into his chest, Rikio turned to watch her throw herself out the door and approach their project. A rumbling laugh filled his aching chest as he slowly tilted to face Izumo with a sheepish smile. "Don't worry, Kusanagi-san. I'll make sure to drive safe when Nē-chan's with me."

"Tsk, you'd better." Both Izumo and Rikio were utterly astonished when Misaki was the one to offer up a derisive command in support like his opinion would somehow be relevant in their current situation. As soon as he realized that the two were staring at him astounded, he startled with a guilty blush. "W-what?! That's what you were gonna say, wasn't it, Kusanagi-san?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"You know, it's pretty hard for a guy to nap when someone's downstairs screamin' bloody murder." From the bottom of the stairs, Mikoto reached to his brow, shoving his fingers through his crimson mane as he shifted his lazy gaze over his cave. "What the hell's goin' on anyway?"

"Mikoto-san, you were asleep this late?" Despite Saruhiko's visible disgust outside of his comprehension, Misaki's tone brightened with youthful vigour. "That's crazy! I totally just had a nap too!" It frustrated Saruhiko to think that sleeping through the afternoon was somehow a great accomplishment, but it was worse to hear the cheerful tone of his friend's laughter. In that sense, he almost wished that Neirah would return.

Izumo chuckled when he turned to face the sight of what looked to be Anna guiding their dozy king by his lazy grip on her fingers. "It looks like Kamamoto finally picked up his license for that bike he and Neirah spent all that time on this winter. She's been waitin' for this for over a year, so I guess the excitement finally got to her."

Mikoto dropped his hand and offered a curious hum towards the sight of Neirah, inspecting the motorcycle that almost looked new since they'd finished with it. "Yeah, I could tell."

Anna's voice was soft as she interrupted them with a gentle coo. "Onē-san is leaving?"

"She'll be back, so don't you worry, Anna-chan," Misaki informed her kindly. "And if they crash and die, I'll make sure I beat the crap outta Kamamoto for it-" Misaki's pleasant raving was interrupted the moment Izumo beat him over the head impatiently.

"Idiot, don't say things like that around Anna-chan," Izumo duly reprimanded.

"What?! I was just trying to make her feel better!"

With a hearty sigh, Izumo closed his eyes and calmed his riled nerves in an attempt to maintain his uncanny cool around the unfiltered youth. "Those two worked hard on that little side project of theirs," he added. "I think that's what makes it so special." He tilted his curiosity towards the other side of the bar to where he'd anticipated Tatara to at least make a fuss, but he'd remained unusually quiet. That was when he noticed that Tatara had also fallen asleep on the bar top. "That kid," he rushed in an exasperated sigh. "He's almost as bad as you are for sleepin' wherever he times out."

Mikoto snorted gruffly to the insinuation.

Izumo quietly crossed the bar, reaching out to peel the little notebook out from underneath their sleeping friend's folded arms. "He's been quiet like this all afternoon. Just what is he up to?"

"No!" When Anna leapt up and commandeered Tatara's work, Izumo was shocked to hear what rushed out as a slightly elevated tone from within their gentle Strain. It was the first time he'd ever perceived her attempt to raise her voice. Once she had collected the book, she quickly backed away and clutched the document against her chest in both arms. "Izumo and the others can't see yet. It's not ready."

_Huh?_ Mikoto tilted his consideration to one side with curiosity flashing behind his golden irises. "Can't see what?"

Anna simply turned to face him and quietly shook her head.

Izumo straightened and sheepishly slipped one palm against his nape. "I'm sorry, Anna-chan. I didn't mean to make you angry," he reassured her tenderly. "I didn't know."

"It's okay," she gently encouraged.

In the next moment, everyone's gazes returned to the sight of Rikio firing up the engine of the vehicle outside before offering Neirah assistance in joining him on the back of the bike. Despite her palpable excitement, there seemed to be slighted apprehension in the way Neirah cautiously mounted. Her interest in the machine had been just that for many years, as she'd never ridden a motorbike. Even so, she faced the challenge bravely with butterflies in her stomach as she lowered her sunglasses from the top of her head to protect her eyes, and moments later, they were ripping down the street.

The world looked vintage through amber shades as Neirah watched it go by in radiant golden hues. It was like a rich sepia filter had slipped over their modern surroundings as the fading summer sun beat on the bright city streets. She couldn't open her eyes any wider as she felt the weight beneath her shift, the city blurring as they picked up speed on the highway leading towards the outskirts of Shizume. It had been just over a year since Rikio had picked up the vehicle, and they began their repairs. During that time, they'd grown closer than she expected, though, since the beginning, she supposed that he'd always looked out for her. In some ways, she would consider him as close a friend as Tatara. They were just as comfortable with each other, and even if she didn't divulge her insecurities as openly with Rikio, she felt like he instinctively understood them. She supposed that maybe she was a little ashamed that she hadn't thanked him for his patient dedication sooner.

A startled yelp caught in her throat as she fell forward on the contraption, clinging to her escort for stability as he zipped around a corner leading them up a natural rise. Her thoughts were so rampant that she'd lost track of their surroundings upon leaving town, and she was instantly thankful that he was still summer-lean. Because of that, she was able to snap her arms around his waist, steadying herself on their ride.

Her smile was embarrassed when she felt him rumble a playful laugh at her vulnerability. Despite him keeping his eyes on the open road ahead of them behind his sunglasses, she still craned to one side of him and stuck out her tongue in the reflection of his side mirror. It was the least she could do when the engine of the bike began to accelerate.

"Hang on tight, Nē-chan," he announced in caution. "This stretch of road is pretty quiet, so I think I'm going to speed up a bit."

_A bit._ Neirah thought that was cute. What he was saying and what she was feeling were two very different stories, but she didn't mind. She wanted to go faster. She wanted to experience the triumph of their dedicated service as the humid breeze slicked back her wild auburn tresses. This was their victory. It reminded her that friendships took just as much patience and dedication as the repairs on the motorcycle currently zipping over the town outskirts. Symbolically, it meant more to her than what anyone else could comprehend, but at the same time, she didn't want it any other way. It was a moment to be spent with two racing heartbeats who understood the exhilaration of their accomplishments, and the freedom that came with it.

As they picked up speed, Neirah slowly retracted her arms, straightening again on the seat behind him so she could peek over his shoulder. It looked like she was watching the world pass on an old-time movie screen, and the quiet street around her became the memories she made on her road to recovery. That was how she began to consider it as she reminisced. The world moved so fast, and it was vast before her. Soon, she began to notice how shallow her train of thought was, stuck on a small track circling over and over with a slow but steady chug. She hated flying, but when she spread her arms out to either side of her on the back of the speeding sportbike, she felt liberty that she could only compare to a winged beast rising from the ashes of a grim past. It was the freedom of trust and everlasting faith that somehow, everything would work out in the end.

When the wheels of their ride jarred over uneven terrain, Neirah retracted her arms, unaware of how brief a moment she spent with them outstretched. As fast as the world moved around her, some moments made her feel like time stood still. She could feel Rikio tense when she flopped against his shoulders again, but he was quickly reassured when she burst out laughing loud enough that he could hear her over the hum of the engine.

It was an uplifting choir that he couldn't help joining. "You okay back there?"

Even though she could hear the concern in his voice, she could also feel his smile. She tipped her chin up onto his shoulder as he tilted his head, and she offered him a broad smile to reassure him, to which he gratefully received.

Rikio brought their speed down to a manageable pace and tried to keep his excitement from spilling over. They cruised for another while before he noted a small rest area on the side of the highway. When he pulled over and disturbed a cloud of dust, he comprehended that by the time he cut the engine, the pair of them were both laughing.

Neirah slowly peeled away from him as he braced the bike with his foot, her fingers rising to where her unbound hair flopped madly in all directions. Her delighted laugh continued as she peeled back the mess with both index fingers. "Oh, wow, this was a bad idea," she moaned. "I should have at least pulled my hair back."

An amused chortle filled Rikio's voice as he set the kickstand under their ride and stood to offer Neirah his hand. He didn't want to seem impatient, but he couldn't help urging her to dismiss the mess she tried to comb out of her tangled mop with her fingers. "Don't worry, your hair looks fine."

Dully snorting her derision, she accepted his aid and dismounted the metal monstrosity. "How many times am I going to have to tell you that I can appreciate an honest man?"

There was a desperate whine in his tone as he defended his sincerity. "But I _was_ being honest."

Once her feet were back on solid ground, she wobbled a bit on rubber legs. "That was way too much fun," she proclaimed giddily. "I can see now why my mother and father used to do this."

Suddenly, Rikio's expression dropped as he watched her wander out towards the edge of the hillside by the steel blockade. She was right, it had been fun, even if he anticipated the novelty to wear off eventually. But the tone of longing in her voice made his chest ache, and he raised his palm to the back of his neck to brush his hair away. "Hey, I didn't mean-"

Without looking his way, Neirah waved her hand towards him in beckoning, successfully stalling his worrisome prattle. "Rikio! Come look at this view!" The hill wasn't high, but it overlooked bits of the central metropolis, where somewhere at heart, their HOMRA continued to beat. She waited for him to join her before continuing. "I used to think that everyone else was so small. But now I see that it's all a matter of perspective."

Appreciating her modest statement, Rikio raised his sunglasses from his face and noted his interest with a quiet laugh. "I feel a comment like that was a little deeper than it sounded."

She turned her cheerful expression his way and let their eyes meet. "I suppose that's all a matter of perspective, too," she teased.

Rikio shuddered with surprise when she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a brand-new pack of cigarettes, peeling off the cellophane before popping the top off like she was interested in the contents. "A-ah! Neirah? I thought you didn't like it when any of us smoked anymore."

With a blissful sigh, she raised the pack to her lips and picked her selection out before offering the carton towards him. "Perspective, Ri-chan." She turned and smiled around the lean dart, a deceitfully delicate blush in her cheeks. "I have a different one since I got back from Nagasaki." When he didn't shift towards her offering, she gave the carton a playful little wriggle. "No?"

Surrendering to her invitation, Rikio apprehensively reached out and received the cigarette she'd picked out of the stack for him. "I have a neighbour that calls me that," he divulged with mild notes of impatience. "But it's way less annoying when you do it."

_Mn._ Neirah chuckled and slipped out a lighter from her pocket to ignite the tip of her smoke. "Maybe she has a crush."

He rolled his eyes with a dull groan, and when he spoke, his cigarette bobbed between his lips with every muffled syllable. "What is it that you're always saying? That sounds really awful?" He drew his own lighter from his pocket and dusted the tip of his cigarette with it. "Because it does."

"Dreadful," she purred. She musically snapped her lighter shut and stuffed it back into her pocket as casually as she'd withdrawn it. "Absolutely dreadful."

Even though Neirah had operated so fluidly, there was still a knot in Rikio's brow as he examined her confidence in the gesture. He wasn't sure at first, but after a moment of consideration, his misgiving piqued. "Wait a minute… wasn't that?"

Neirah quietly cleared her throat to interrupt him, causing his suspicions to deepen.

Not only was Rikio confident that he'd recognized her particular Zippo, but he was also pretty sure he'd been familiar with the brand of cigarettes Neirah had just opened. "Uh, I don't suppose that Chitose knows about your new view on things-"

"Chitose-kun doesn't have to know. It wouldn't hurt him to smoke a little less." Neirah's tone was filled with a soft song even as her bashful smile broadened. "But to be fair, I only stole the lighter. Ever since that day last winter, he and I have smoked the same brand." Her beam became wicked around her light as she turned to face him directly. "Besides, it's not like he and Dewa-kun need a lighter anyways."

The pair shared a hearty laugh as the twisting plumes of smoke intertwined and encircled their gathering. They overlooked the surrounding area in silence for a moment of quiet contentment before Neirah spoke again. "Thank you for understanding." She could feel Rikio's uncertain hesitation when his eyes turned on her in her peripherals, but she didn't falter. "With Okazaki-san, I mean. I'm grateful for what you did."

Rikio lowered his eyes, chewing sheepishly on the end of his light. "O-oh, that…"

"Don't be that way." She was happy to see that her support by his side helped reassure him when she redirected her attention and gave him a playful nudge. "I know what you're thinking. You probably feel bad for being so hard on him, but I don't blame you for that. The truth is that if it weren't for you the last time we spoke, I might have done something I would regret for the rest of my life."

"Really…?"

She nodded and withdrew her cigarette to tap the ashes from the end. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her arm limply by her side, stuffing her second hand in her pocket as she looked back out over the city. "I still regret not appreciating him sooner. It seems that no matter what I do, the guilt is going to follow me around. But it's just another part of me that I have to get used to, I suppose. It'll get easier as I go."

Rikio dipped his head with shame. "But it's because of Yata and me that Okazaki doesn't come around anymore."

"No, he's probably just busy with school," she assured him tenderly. "Kusanagi-san is right. Yata beat him with a skateboard, and he still came back to face him." A musical laugh filled her voice as she continued. "I know he seems cowardly sometimes, but Okazaki-san is very resilient. When he wants something, he doesn't give up."

A bitter Rikio's expression dropped with his stirring agitation. "Well, maybe he should," he muffled impatiently. "I really don't like that guy. He's always makin' you feel uncomfortable."

A subtle pang of guilt caused Neirah's roots to tingle as she considered her off-putting attitude towards the young man who'd done nothing but attempted to befriend her. At one point, it did make her uncomfortable, and she was nothing short of delighted to hear that Rikio had noticed.

"That's so funny because he's pretty fond of you," she cackled. "But I can understand why he was a little nervous, at first. He thought I ended up in some sort of trouble with dangerous people the day you first met him. When I think about it now, it was actually kind of sweet." Realizing that Rikio wasn't as enthused, she continued. "But after I explained everything to him, he started to appreciate the things that you do for me. See, Okazaki-san is skilled at understanding people, too. I think that's why he refuses to give up on me even if I give him the cold shoulder." Her expression began to dim as she let her thoughts travel. "I think that's why he didn't try to run away the last time we saw him. I think he knew that you were only there to protect my feelings, and you didn't have any intentions of hurting him."

"But I would've!" Rikio demanded urgently. "If he hadn't stopped yellin' at you like that, I would've shown him that it was a bad idea to mess with HOMRA."

"Would you?" she sassed cheekily. "Or would you have gotten Yata to do it."

"Still… He would've learned…"

A tender smile curved her lips as she leaned against his shoulder with a sense of endearment she struggled to let show before. "I know you don't like him," she whispered. "But I owe him my thanks. He never gave up on me, no matter how tightly I locked my emotions down. He never left my side." A gentle sigh escaped her pursed lips with a delicate strand of smoke as she tipped her chin back to redirect soft blue eyes towards his consideration. "I want to start thanking people for things like that, even if I don't necessarily say those words, exactly."

Rikio's cheeks dusted with hints of colour as he sheepishly diverted his attention. "Even if you don't say those words, huh?"

"Thank you for protecting me from breaking all the bones in my body that night, Ri-chan," she cooed appreciatively. "I really appreciate it."

At first, he felt like she was earnest, and he had every intention of taking her seriously, but he couldn't keep his entertained laugh stifled, so it ended up choking out of his control. "Ah, you're welcome, I guess."

_Mm._ Neirah curiously hummed as she pulled out her PDA, realizing that she had a series of missed messages pending from Yō's contact. "I guess the cat's out of the bag." From where she continued to prop her unsteady self against Rikio's shoulder, she popped her smoke back between her lips to reclaim both of her hands and patter away on her mobile's screen in reply to her friend's outrage. "Chitose-kun figured me out faster this time. I guess it's time to teach an old dog new tricks."

Rikio picked his diminishing light from between his teeth with a soft smile. "But Nē-chan is a lion."

A tender smile warmed her expression as she beamed her appreciation. "Yeah…"

As Neirah continued to tap away at her screen, Rikio extinguished his cigarette and turned over his shoulder curiously to the sound of familiar engines sounding in the distance. "I guess we weren't the only ones who thought it was a nice day for a cruise."

Neirah popped her attention away from her phone to join him in watching the horizon. "How boring," she groaned. "I have no interest in any company." She stepped towards their ride, taking a moment to admire their success before tipping her cheerful smile towards him. "Ri-chan, what do you say we go and visit Ōta-san? I haven't dropped by since I got back, and he promised to make me tonkatsu when I did."

Rikio turned his eyes back on her, dismissing the approach of their fellow riders. "Actually, I was feelin' kinda peckish."

Neirah's whimsical giggle filtered through the back of her mobile flashing that she was preparing to write Jūrō a message announcing their arrival. "Just peckish?" It would do them no good to visit Jūrō without an appetite, but luckily for them, the inevitable change in the season had it returning.

"Yeah," he murmured eagerly. "I could eat."


	32. Keiretsu

**Keiretsu**

* * *

Eagerly, Neirah was the first one to mount the motorbike they shared, her palm gently patting the leather seat in front of her. "Come on, let's hit the road before those other riders show up, because if they're looking for a race, you know we'll have to leave them in our dust."

Rikio seemed confused by her demands. "So?"

A wry expression vivified the mischievous look of challenge in her eyes as she smiled back at him. "That doesn't sound like something that Kusanagi-san would be overly pleased with if he found out." There was music in her voice as she shimmied back and gave his seat another beckoning pat. "And you know he _always_ finds out."

With an acceptant groan, Rikio threw his leg over the engine and knocked out the kickstand. "I guess you're right. I _did_ promise him I'd be safe if you were on the back."

Before he could start the engine, Neirah reached out and interrupted his efforts. "Hold on!" After jerking her bracelet from her wrist, she straightened and gathered her hair on the top of her head, binding the tail tightly before feeding her arms back around his waist. "Okay, I'm ready," she cooed. "But we'd better hurry or lunch is going to get cold. You know how Ōta-san can be."

A muffled whine caught in Rikio's chest as he cranked the key over in the ignition. "After just sayin' that I'd be safe."

Before they'd even begun to move, Neirah threw her hands up into the air with a happy squeal. "Faster, faster!"

"We haven't even started moving yet!"

Once they'd begun their journey back towards town, their promised company had managed to catch up in Rikio's mirror. At first, a twisted smile found his lips when he felt Neirah tighten her hold around him like she was urging him to leave them hacking on their exhaust fumes. He tipped his curiosity over his shoulder for a moment as they banked around a tight corner, catching the sight of her wicked smirk, and it caused his heart to race beneath the pressure of the building adrenaline.

After coming out of their bend, he checked his mirror, interested to know if one of the four riders might have engaged their challenge. However, passing didn't seem to be their intent. Instead, they appeared intensely focussed on the way Neirah's sporty updo fluttered against the golden HOMRA insignia flashing between her leather-clad shoulders.

Soon, Rikio's racing heart began to palpitate with nerves instead of enthusiasm to notice the formation gathering behind them like a foreboding shadow. It became apparent that the riders hot in pursuit had no interest in passing them, and when he saw two passengers withdraw a couple of pipe lengths, his stomach churned.

A delicate moan stole Neirah's throat as she winced to the feeling of their speed lurching them forward, but before she could cheer, she noticed the grave look on Rikio's face in the reflection of his mirror. When she saw that, her concentration fixed on their visitors that shared the reflective frame, and her heart sank.

"Hang on, Neirah," he thundered. "I'm gonna try and shake them."

When she realized what was happening, Neirah withdrew from his comfort and threw her gaze over her shoulder to where she watched six riders approach between four motorbikes. Their helmets concealed their faces, but it was clear that they were focussed on she and Rikio when they too accelerated to keep up with the retreat.

She immediately clamped her teeth together, slightly bitter that her pleasant afternoon postponed until they could deal with the threat at hand. Then again, when she listened to one of the passengers beat a section of lead piping against his ride's exhaust with a threatening clatter, her bared grimace morphed into an eager grin. It had been a while since she'd stretched her legs, and the energy had more than gathered to overflowing.

"Rikio, keep us steady!" She hollered her command over the rumble of their engine, but before Rikio could defend against her lethal demand, she was already shifting.

A worrisome yelp caught in his throat as he felt her adjust her weight, carefully contorting her legs to one side of the speeding vehicle. "Neirah, what do you think you're doing!?"

"Something crazy." Neirah could hardly hear him for how loud the wind whipped past them, and she wasn't patient enough to ask him to repeat. Instead, she carefully continued, mounting the bike between their legs in reverse so that she could face their oncoming threat directly. Muffled commands began to fill her ears again from their visitors as she gripped the tail of the motorcycle between both hands to keep her steady. It was apparent that they were preparing for the altercation she'd unintentionally announced by altering.

When Rikio comprehended that she wasn't going to budge, he turned his fixed gaze onto the road and noticed that they were coming up on traffic. With the speeds they were travelling, it wouldn't be long before they had to retake the highway. "I'm gonna turn!" He was worried that she might not have heard him and that he would have to compensate for her lack of momentum, but after carefully observing their opponents, she'd picked up on their lean. When she felt Rikio begin to shift his weight against her back, she mirrored the effort fluidly, leaning into the sway of their bank to help keep them steady. She clutched the end of the seat between her legs in both hands, and she never took her fixed, burning stare from their enemies.

"This is going to happen fast," she cautioned. "When you feel it, just be ready to back me up."

His alarm brewed worry as he absorbed her demand. "What do you have planned?"

When her eyes locked on the reflection of a straight and quiet stretch of road in the mirrored lens of the lead rider's visor, she released the seat of the bike and began to uncoil the chain around her hips. She could feel Rikio tense behind her as she did, but at least the unspoken warning had allowed him to comprehend her meaning. After watching one more vehicle tear by them in the opposing lane, her focussed gaze flashed with hints of crimson. "Gun it."

Rikio's first instinct was to do the exact opposite of her command until she explained herself, but he was too nervous to act on the impulse. Instead, he obeyed her and caused the bike to buck with his sudden acceleration. Luckily, she remained steady with muscular thighs tightly hugging her perch, watching their targets curse as they grew smaller, but before they could rush and catch up, Neirah was beginning their operation.

She ripped back the dart at her tailbone, pitching it just in front of their rear tire in a sudden burst of flame that their enemies would be helpless to keep from powering into upon passing. When they had, it scrambled their order, causing them to attempt a go-around. After they popped out of the flames disoriented, Neirah was already sitting forward with her kunai in hand. Their arrangement couldn't be any more perfect, and after taking a deep breath, she launched her first chained dart into the front wheel of the motorbike on the far righthand side.

The moment the sharp edge punctured the tire and flipped the bike onto its front, her chain entangled in the fuss of the crash. She had anticipated that eagerly, and when the jarring momentum lurched on her links, she let it carry her out of her seat towards the commotion. She adjusted her sailing body towards the unavoidable collision, the heel of her boot powering her into the driver of the bike on the far left. During, the two centre riders suffered the clothesline of her links and jerked off balance until their machines skidded out of control across the asphalt.

The speeds travelled were hard to recover from, even after she'd stalled herself by impacting her target. She tried to recuperate by releasing her chain, dragging her blazing fingers against the pavement, but the force was too much, and she toppled onto her side with a delicate yelp. Neirah drew her arms against her front to protect herself as she rolled across the street, and as soon as she could regain her bearings, she slammed her boot into the concrete to jar her momentum.

That was the signal. The fresh tires on Rikio's motorcycle smoked as he braked with all he had in his best attempt to keep the bike from collapsing, and when he whirled to face the uproar, his chest couldn't contain his panicked bark. "Neirah!"

She could feel the approach of the truck coming up on the street behind her, and before it even blared its horn, she was on her feet and leaping back over her hands. Upon soaring, she dusted her fingers off of the truck's hood, instantly popping off the momentum to throw herself over the trailer behind. While she was airborne, she watched her enemies scramble to the same recognition, and by the time her heels struck the pavement again, she was back on her feet, ready for battle.

After raising from her braced crouch, Neirah's musical steps hastened on approach as she watched the threat begin to mobilize, so her first order of business was to disarm those who carried them. The nearest one was still on the ground, panicking when he heard the sharp click of her heels approach because, evidently, they were familiar with what that meant. He was quick to reach for his pipe before she was too close, but in his stupor, she managed to kick the article away before he could claim it. Once he straightened, her fluid movements saw her elbow into his chin, and once she'd bounced his head back, she chopped his exposed throat beneath his helmet. He dropped as quickly as he raised, leaving her to continue down the line.

Two of the drivers remained unconscious after their spill, which suited her just fine. That meant that she only had to neutralize three more before Rikio returned to her side. She watched her remaining targets assemble a little more stably than the first, but she didn't rush. Instead, her hips swung into the influence of her lengthened strides, her fiery gaze focussed on their approach as she bounced. "I'll have you know that I was having a lovely day up until you showed up," she drawled in a sultry tone. "It was rude of you to interrupt."

She ducked beneath the first strike of the man wielding the remaining pole, but while her centre was low, she snapped her leg out in front of her and took his feet out from beneath him. When she raised, she captured the next clumsy strike, knocking her palm into the joint of her assailant's elbow until it cracked the other way.

The next approach was noisy, too noisy for her liking. She quickly beat her wailing prey to the ground with the flat of her sole, twisting and swinging her leg over her head until it knocked into the attack approaching from behind. When her assailant dropped the reclaimed length of conduit they were sharing, Neirah caught it with swift reflexes and weaved it between elegant fingers before cracking her next attacker across the ribs. She had made contact with all her conscious enemies, which filled her with reassurance as she dropped the pole over her shoulder and postured above their groaning masses. "Wonderful," she cooed. "Since you've all calmed down, maybe now we can talk about why you felt the need to-"

The pain ripped through Neirah's head so sharply that the strike disoriented her, leaving her dizzy as she listened to the loud clatter of her polearm rattling against the pavement. She faintly comprehended the sound of Rikio calling out to her, but shortly after, she saw red. The sight of fresh blood spilling over her face from her crown was how she knew she was stricken with something other than a hand, and the comprehension was nearly insulting.

"Back off!" After Rikio had managed to catch up with his impulsive partner, he dropped down between her and her aggressor, rolling his scorching kick into the man's collarbone. When his target lost balance, he seized him by a fistful of leather between his shoulders and bounced his face off his raising knee. Finally, the man dropped the helmet he'd removed to beat the woman over her head and fell to his knees, where Rikio shoved his limp mass face-first into the street.

When the second attacker approached, Rikio didn't give him the chance to get near his partner before he was acting. He bounded off his toes, raising his heel above his head before the axe dropped, and the flames attached were hammering into his target. He sensed one more nearby as his peripherals peeked over his shoulder, and before they could strike, he swept his tight forearm through the air and interrupted the man's unsteady breath. At first, they were persistent enough to have held a grudge, but they were silent now.

With a bitter groan, Neirah clutched her palm to her bleeding brow, wincing over the grinding of her teeth. "That was embarrassing," she whispered.

After whirling to face his friend, Rikio's panic caused him to fluster. "Are you okay?" He leaned towards her stagger and helped to steady her on her feet. Once his palm met hers against her brow, he jolted to the feeling of it sticking and jerked his bloody hand into view. His worry had his tone low but accelerating to rush out his concern. "Shit… He got you good."

Despite his obvious worry, Neirah still offered him a meek smile. "I'm sorry, that was clumsy," she muttered sheepishly. "I always forget that this is the kind of thing that happens when I'm feeling too sure of myself."

Once she was back on her feet, her expression hardened as she observed the mess of riders sprawled around them, taking an interest in the one who had removed his helmet. "I wonder what they want with us," she murmured curiously. "I don't recognize him."

In case she became disoriented after suffering the blunt force of her assailant's strike, Rikio made sure to keep a steadying grip on the woman. "Do you think they might be with a group who's holding a grudge against, Mikoto-san?" As soon as he'd gotten the words out, the two alerted to the sound of an engine gearing up and immediately swung their gazes to face the retreat of squealing tires. "Damn it! I thought they were all out!"

"Oh no you don't!" Neirah dove out of Rikio's arms and tumbled across the street towards where she'd left her single throwing knife. After trying harder than usual to focus her vision, she ripped it back, carrying it with her momentum until she could throw its glowing golden spike towards the retreating motorcycle. A menacing flash reflected in her eyes as the dart pierced the tire and maliciously ignited the bike until the fuel tank was combusting, showering the quiet street with fibreglass shrapnel.

Rikio cowered slightly behind her as she approached the flames with a predatory growl, unsure if he felt safe chasing after her. "A-ah… it's all fun and games until someone pisses off HOMRA's hunter." Taking a moment to consider her mood, he determined that he should probably keep her from exhausting herself in her injured state. It had nothing to do with his sympathy for the men who dared to provoke her ire. "Neirah, wait up!"

When Neirah joined the commotion, she reached out with jagged claws to snag the collar of the man trying his best to crawl away from the heat of his smouldering escape. Even as he let out a desperate yip, she persisted, dragging him across the street out of traffic before pitching him onto the shoulder of the road. "Okay, I tried to be cute, but you couldn't appreciate my leniency," she rumbled lividly. The flicker of lively crimson flames crawled over her skin as she narrowed her sights on her flailing target while he tried desperately to scramble away. "Now you have until the count of seven to tell me what you have against my king. One."

On the ground, the man's whimpers echoed behind his helmet as he watched the flaring woman approach behind the dark visor. "No! No, please! Not again!"

"Two."

From where he watched Neirah chase after the helpless scampering of her target, Rikio's brow suddenly knotted to the sound of the man's pleas. "Wait, not again?"

"I'll warn you." Neirah reached down towards her prey and grabbed hold of his helmet, jerking his face towards the furious glower in her burning eyes. "I'm not a very patient person."

Rikio startled the moment she roughly jerked the helmet from her enemy's head, revealing the sight of petrified tears streaking his face. When he first considered the view, it didn't seem too unexpected in the wake of their lion's wrath, but when he watched Neirah's raised arm clumsily drop the helmet that she'd just torn from his face, he panicked. "Hey, what's wrong?!"

The flames immediately extinguished as Neirah's wild gaze stared down into the mortified look on the man's face before her. Her heart raced as she staggered back a step, her thoughts growing woozy from the pain and overwhelming realization that she'd seen it before.

Her hands began to tremble as she took another step back, colliding with Rikio's protective hold on her. She'd recognized the face at her feet while it begged her to spare his life for a second time. She'd known him from days before HOMRA.

Clutching her tightly in his embrace, Rikio let his eyes shift between their target and the overwhelmed expression on her face. "Neirah, talk to me. Do you know this guy?"

She didn't take her eyes off the blubbering mass in front of her as she tilted between rage and guilt, her aching head desperately trying to process the reunion. Finally, after a moment of suffering a mild anxiety attack similar to her early days with HOMRA, she slipped out of Rikio's arms and reapplied her deadly scowl.

"Neirah?"

She hastily stepped towards the man at their feet and slammed her boot into the centre of his heaving chest, pinning him against the ground beneath her flames. "I thought I told you the last time I saw you that I never wanted to see your face in Shizume City again." She could feel the pressure of Rikio's concern observing her, but she didn't soften her tone. "Yet here you are."

"I'm sorry! Look, you don't understand-!"

Rikio winced to the sound of the man's jaw cracking beneath the kick of Neirah's toe.

"I let you live, and this is how you repay me?!" The next merciless strike of her heel against his chest cavity caused his ribs to crack beneath her pressure. "This is why the Hikawa was always beneath us! You never know when to quit!"

Terror caused Rikio to rush to her side. "Oi, that's enough!"

Neirah repeated, stomping on the fracturing joint again with a wild look in her eyes. "You have no business showing up here now when I'm finally at peace with those days!" Her tone began to elevate outside of her control. "Do you want to die?!"

"He's not worth it!" Despite her wrathful squealing, Rikio locked strong arms around the deranged woman in an attempt to calm her ire. "Nē-chan, listen to me. Just let it go."

Big sister. She was the one who was supposed to hold it together in the face of disaster, and Neirah felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes as she glowered fervently at her whimpering target, her heart aching with pent rage as she struggled against Rikio's hold. Then, after one final exclamation, she set her feet back on the ground beneath her and stared at the pitiful sight Rikio had to drag her away from with a bitter grunt.

She was shaking against him, and even if she acted lividly, Rikio knew that what she was feeling was fear. When she turned in his arms, he tightened his grip, watching over her bleeding scalp as their enemies lingered incapacitated. Something spooked her, and by the way that she'd spoken, it sounded like it had involved her past.

"Ri-chan…"

Rikio shuddered to the meek tone of her voice as it whispered her exhausted words against his chest. "Yeah, what is it? Are you feeling lightheaded?"

"I want to go home," she muffled vulnerably against his shirt. Lightheaded could be considered an understatement as her blood marked his shirt from where it spilled from her brow. She wanted to get off her feet, she wanted a bubble bath, and she wanted Tatara. "Can you message Ōta-san and tell him that we won't be able to make it for lunch?"

His stomach roiled as he read between her lines and heard her heart's desires. "Yeah," he reassured her kindly. "Yeah, I'll let him know."

"Thank you…"

* * *

"IDIOT!"

To the sound of a rumbling crash, Rikio winced as Misaki tossed him over a table across the bar. With nothing left but to surrender, he rolled over his aching shoulder before flopping onto the ground with a pained whine. He slowly opened one eye, staring towards the sight of Misaki's shoes stomping on the flooring that he barely connected with since a couple of their clanmates had apprehended him. Unfortunately, he didn't have a defence, and a part of him felt like he'd deserved the punishment. Neirah was hurt, and it was all his fault. "I-I'm sorry, okay…?"

"Sorry!? Sorry doesn't cut it!" Misaki snarled his words wrathfully as he struggled to break away from the hold Yō and Saruhiko had on him. "Stupid Bakamoto! How could you let someone do this to Tsukiyo!? Guys are supposed to look after their girls, so just how the hell did this happen?!"

As he waited in reserve, Saburōta cautiously approached in an attempt to tame the vanguard's wrath. "It probably looks worse than it is," he calmly reassured. "It can't be all Kamamoto's fault. I mean, he wouldn't just _let_ somebody hurt Nē-san." Being someone who had found himself in a similar situation the summer prior, he could sympathize with what Rikio was going through.

Even if Misaki was secured, he was wily. Without warning, he used their comrade's hold on him to support where he raised his flailing legs and beat Saburōta onto the floor with his struggling. "Fuck you!" He seemed to redirect his wrath when Saburōta struck the floor, his seething rage uncontainable. "From what I remember, you're just as fucking reliable at keeping her safe!"

"He deserved that." Saruhiko casually remarked his indifference as he tightened up his hold on his frantic friend. "Only a complete moron would provoke you when you're like this."

Misaki hissed out a livid growl. "And just what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Does it have to mean anything?"

Saburōta was quick to scramble back to his feet, ignoring his bloody nose to shake his fist at the raving Misaki from a recalculated safe distance away. "Well, the way I remember it, they had to drug me up before they made off with her! I don't know about you, but Kamamoto looks fine to me!"

Rikio growled defensively behind where Saburōta had immediately switched sides. "Oi! At least I brought her back with me!"

"Yeah! All fucking covered in blood, you useless shit!" Misaki snapped in redirected wrath.

"Yata, that's enough," Izumo thundered impatiently. "What's done is done. Busting up my damn bar isn't going to change that."

Nearby, Anna sat alongside Tatara, gently passing him medical supplies as he cleaned and dressed his roommate's wound. When Kōsuke delivered them more supplies from the back, she gratefully accepted them and let him hover nearby in case there was anything else Tatara requested. Still, there was sadness on her tender features to consider how quickly her friends tempered. "So noisy," she murmured. "Misaki is so upset."

"I think we're all upset," Kōsuke whispered by her side. "But, you're right about him being the most vocal about the whole thing."

"Yata-chan, you should listen to Kusanagi-san before he gets angry," Tatara kindly mused. "Besides, Bandō's right. It really does look worse than it is." Tatara startled the moment Neirah winced with a delicate whimper, recoiling from the disinfectant he used on the split. "How _are_ you holing up, Nei-chan?"

Her pride hurt more than anything else as her friends fussed around her injury. With a shaky sigh, she gently raised her hand to his wrist and guided it to lower for the time being. "I'm fine," she murmured. "But that was embarrassing, for sure."

"You and that pride of yours," Izumo wryly pestered. "Could you do me a favour and say that a little louder so that Yata stops tearing down the walls?"

A small smile brightened her expression as she redirected to the sight of Misaki fighting to break free of Saruhiko's hold. Yō had since abandoned the cause after suffering a bloody lip from the elbow Misaki threw him in an attempt to escape. That left Masaomi to play doctor, much to a fussing Yō's dismay. Yō wouldn't stop reiterating that he thought Neirah would make a more appropriate nurse.

"Yata." Her smile broadened when the feisty ginger swung in Saruhiko's arms to face her quiet address, and when he did, she offered him a reassuring smile. "You know, you look pretty cute when you're all fired up like this."

She wasn't sure who looked more impacted by her words, Saburōta or Misaki. Either way, her reverse psychology worked in an instant, causing Misaki to clamp his teeth around his tongue and blush madly with his resistance. After a moment of flustering, he quickly shrugged off Saruhiko's hold with a bitter snort, leaving the scene to pout.

It left Saruhiko to immediately throw his impatient glare over his shoulder towards the frisky brunette. "Now, why couldn't you have done that sooner?"

Neirah giggled softly to the sound of Masaomi's voice, claiming that she must have hit her head harder than they thought. "Much better," she whispered. "I can hear myself think again."

With a gentle sigh, Mikoto leaned forward in his seat across from the woman, his temper skillfully obscured. "Are you ready to tell us who did this to you?"

Before she spoke again, Neirah was careful to make sure that when Rikio sheepishly climbed to his feet, he wasn't in any immediate danger from Misaki's escalating wrath. "A persistent type of low-ranking thugs who are constantly butting heads in the Yakuza ranks," she muttered softly. "As you might've guessed, this isn't my first run-in with them."

Masaomi turned from where Yō was hissing to the application of alcohol burning his open wound, unsympathetically grinding the swab into the cut beneath his finger as he diverted his attention. "Does that mean these guys were with your old gang?" he pried. "But I thought we wiped them all out in Minato?"

"Alright, fuck off with that shit already!" Yō barked intolerantly. He groaned and touched his swelling lip, sucking on the distended flesh before casting Misaki an aggravated scowl. "Who the hell cares who did it? I'm gonna bust all their heads open for what they did to Nē-chan!"

To stifle his agitated yapping, Masaomi beat his friend over the head with an impatient snarl. "Idiot! If Nē-chan's old clan is head-hunting her, we've got bigger problems!"

Neirah gently shook her head. "No, they're different," she reasoned. "These ones are with Hikawa, a clan that was notorious for trying to leapfrog through the Yakuza ranks. My clan was much larger and far more revered than theirs, not to mention constantly bothered by their incessive meddling. So, one night my employer despatched me to encourage them to fear us."

Rikio's expression grew sombre. "They sent one young girl?"

Her expression grew saddened by reminiscence. "It was one of my first jobs, and I let one of them walk away with a warning because he wasn't much older than I was. He was there today with the others, and the first to try and flee."

"Well, I guess mission accomplished," Mikoto rumbled casually.

"King! Don't be so insensitive!" Tatara scolded.

"It's fine," Neirah evenly refuted. "Honestly, I'm better now. It just startled me to remember that this used to be my life. Constantly looking over my shoulder and waiting for someone to take revenge."

Misaki immediately leapt back into the conversation with passionate ire. "Well, they just screwed with the wrong clan!" he commanded. "Don't you worry, Tsukiyo! Chitose's right! We'll make every last one of 'em pay for what they did!"

"Who died and made you king?" Masaomi growled intolerantly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for beating the snot outta anyone who'd hurt Tsukiyo, but that doesn't sound like that's what she wants right now."

He hated it. Misaki absolutely _loathed_ the fact that he was the only one who couldn't see between the lines of the woman he fought desperately to understand. "But-!"

"He's right, Yata," she gently cooed. "Honestly, they're not worth the effort. Even if we roughed them up and scared them away, they'd just come crawling right back when things settled down again."

"That might be true, but you tussled with them back when you were with the Yakuza," Izumo reasoned. "Sure, you were a higher-ranking threat, but you were still human."

"That's right!" Misaki eagerly cheered. "I get that you were scary back then, but it's one thing to face a kick-ass chick with a knife and another thing to mess with Mikoto-san!"

He hated to agree, but Saruhiko could sympathize with what Misaki was saying. "That's true. The Red King is revered even among other kings and Strains. Facing that threat is something else entirely."

"Are we seriously gonna do this?" Kōsuke turned his skeptical gaze towards where Rikio was still moping about his failures. "After the blues just came down on us for picking fights?"

"Fuck the blues!" Misaki roared. "It's none of their damn business what we do on our turf! That bastard hurt Tsukiyo-san, and we can't just let them get away with throwing the first punch!"

"Set it to simmer before I knock all your damned heads together," Izumo growled around his igniting smoke. "Dewa's right. Even if it's completely unacceptable, Neirah seems content letting bygones be bygones, and we should respect that."

When Misaki turned his sad eyes to meet with Neirah's, she offered him a displeasing smile that surrendered her interest. "Wait… so we're really just gonna let them get away with it?"

Neirah tilted her smiling face to one side to reassure him. "As far as I'm concerned, this was a real eye-opener. It showed me that I've been getting lazy since my trip and should pay more attention when I'm out and about."

Misaki dropped his disappointed gaze with a dull groan, watching his balled fist shake with pent aggression in need of release. "But… I just-"

"I bet that hurt."

With a soft whimper, Neirah raised her gaze to trace Mikoto's casual rise from his seat across from her. He stretched his shoulders out and rolled his neck like a lion climbing from its sunny perch on a rock.

"But the real wonder here is that you forgot you can't hide things from your king while you were sightseeing on the other side of the country." Mikoto tilted his wicked grin back until his head had flopped over his shoulder and connected his sharp amber leer with her deceitful gaze. "They _did_ humiliate you in broad daylight. They're probably laughin' about it right now."

Catching Mikoto's intent, Izumo recoiled and shifted his impatient leer towards his king's instigation. "Oi, stop that."

Mikoto shrugged his arms to either side and closed his eyes over his knowing grin. "I'm just sayin'. That would piss me off."

Izumo's teeth clenched around the filter of his cigarette as he growled his warning. "Neirah's not you."

Without taking his eyes off his hunter, Mikoto ignored Izumo's instigation and let traces of his ruby aura spill around his shoulders. "What am I saying, it's not a matter of _would_. It does," he rumbled purposefully. "It really gets under my skin to think that these punks got away with stompin' around my territory, picking on my pride."

"Ah, I'm starting to see it now, Kusanagi-san," Tatara sang spiritedly by Neirah's side. "King _is_ a bad influence on Lion-chan."

With a gentle puff of breath, Neirah tossed her nose up into the air to defiantly dismiss her king's ardent grumblings. "King-sama is not a bad influence if I don't let it get to me," she interjected. "I mean it. I'm not interested in wasting my time with them again, so there's no need for HOMRA to get involved." She'd begged their aid in her first battle for freedom, but she wasn't going to do so a second time. It was nothing she couldn't handle.

"We were involved the moment those guys started tailing us on the highway," Rikio calmly refuted in support of their advance. "Whether we fight them or not, they just made an enemy of all of us."

"That's right!" Misaki hollered in anticipation. "I mean, the guy coulda clubbed Bakamoto, and it would have been the same."

Upon pointing his finger towards the riled vanguard, Saburōta's brow knotted beneath his cap while he watched Misaki rave. "Are you sure you wouldn't have just teased him for it?"

Misaki whirled and decked Saburōta a second time. "Whose side are you on?!"

As badly as he wanted to claim _the one that didn't get him hit_, he poked his head up and choked out his desperate rebuttal in Neirah's defence. "It's like Kusanagi-san says!" Saburōta groaned as he struggled to peel Misaki's forearm from across his throat. "If Nē-san doesn't want to fight them, then we should respect that."

Misaki added his second forearm into the effort and heaved on the gagging Saburōta's windpipe. "Dumbass! If Mikoto-san says we fight, we fight!"

Neirah groaned and touched her aching head with delicate fingertips the moment Tatara finished with her treatment, her focussed leer staring off into the abyss of her resentment. "Yata, let Wolf-kun go or so help me…" She just didn't have the patience to put up with their surging tempers.

"My mind's made up."

Neirah raised her defiant pout towards her king's sly expression as he instigated her fury.

"You can stay here if you want, but HOMRA submits to no one." Mikoto's devious smile broadened to the sound of anxious flustering filling the room in anticipation of his command. "But I know you want it," he prodded.

Izumo slammed his hands flat against his bar, his teeth grinding around his half-smoked cigarette. "Mikoto, I swear-!"

"An eye for an eye."

"She just said they're not worth it!"

"Blood for blood."

Tatara recoiled, but he wasn't surprised when Neirah climbed to her feet and threw her bared grimace over her shoulder towards her king's encouragement. A heavy curtain of soft auburn tresses dusted past her face as her passionate glower matched her king's with ardent purpose. "No! It's time that they realized what makes us different from the others!" she commanded. "We don't leave any!"

Misaki could hardly contain his excitement. "Yeah! That's right!" His fist was already trembling, and tight from bearing his anticipation, so he threw it up into the air with an energetic cheer. "No blood! No bone! No ash!"

Mikoto filled with triumph when the entire bar echoed with the sound of his pride gearing up for the impending confrontation, repeating the chant like a war cry in honour of their wounded hunter. The wave washed through the bar, each member within equally wounded that anyone would dare step out of line against their family. When his smugly satisfied expression tipped to face his aggravated second, Mikoto repeated the words encouraging Neirah's quiet burn by his side. "No blood. No bone. No ash." He waited until her scorching gaze raised to meet his, her agitation peaking until the rage boiled over. "You know the way, don't you?"

"I can smell fear a mile away," she nearly snarled.

An intent smirk brightened Mikoto's expression as he ignored the dramatic sound of Izumo cursing beneath his breath and throwing his arms up. "Show us," he rumbled.

A sadistic grin tugged her lips up to one side as her face twisted with lively notes of malicious pleasure. "Anything for my king."

* * *

**_Somewhere across town…_**

Poker chips scattered to either side of the room to a choir of thundering curses. "Are you sick in the fucking head?! You made a move on the Red Lion in broad daylight _and_ managed to let her see you?!" Bystander's flinched as the reprimand delivered to the bikers who made the foolish mistake of making their move against HOMRA. "Everyone knows she's the monster's prized pet! Getting pushed around by the other clans wasn't enough, huh!? Now we're gonna have them breathing down our neck any minute now!"

The raving man had barely gotten the approximation out of his mouth when Misaki was kicking down the door. His skateboard was centred in the flaring slab as it struck the floor off its hinges. The surge of flames subsided to reveal him crouched squarely in the middle of his board with one wrist rested on his bent knee and a menacing snigger breaking the petrified hush to steal the musty room. "Damn, Tsukiyo. You sure work fast."

A threatening grin flashed across Misaki's face as he raised his fiery gaze to examine the facility they'd taken by storm, both wrists flopping over the metal bat he rested against his nape. When he tipped his head back to straighten, he dropped the sportswear to his side with an ominous ringing against the floor. His nose raised high in the air while he ridiculed their organization. "But are you sure this is the right place?" He spat out a sarcastic laugh. "What a dump! No wonder the other clan's think you're a fucking joke."

"And you're seriously only gonna put one guy at the front door when your boys are out picking fights with HOMRA?" Dragging the limp mass of flesh that he'd disabled through the door, Yō dropped their only defence from where he'd palmed the man's face. "Geez, it's like you're not even trying."

From where he stood by Yō's side, Masaomi quietly popped his hat off his brow to rake his fingers through his bangs, slicking them back before returning the accessory. Afterwards, he tipped the sharp leer of one peeking eye out from beneath the brim of the cap he steadied against his head beneath his palm. "So, we heard one of you has a problem with our hunter."

Not once, but twice, the man trembling in the wake of their sweltering resistance had survived the hunt in which Masaomi referred. As soon as Masaomi had mentioned the event again, his lead encouraged his allies to scramble. "Not again!" he wailed. "The hell with this! You guys are on your own!"

Catching sight of the disturbance, Saruhiko was quick to act with lightning reflexes. He launched one of his darts energetically towards the back door, igniting it in a powerful surge of flame to detour their scamper. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he droned. When they turned their frightened gazes towards his dull proclamation, Saruhiko straightened and summoned another dart to his palm in a warning. His stony expression remained void as he honed his sights on them with a cruel spark in his focussed blue eyes. "Some of us get off on a game of cat and mouse."

A low wave of foreboding laughter mocked the terror on their prey's faces for a moment before a catty merowl hissed from within the crowd. Soon after, Mikoto was stepping through the doorway between his vanguard. Misaki anxiously nudged forward a step, chomping at the bit for a scrap, whereas Saruhiko surrendered his lead to their foreboding king. That recoil put him directly next to Neirah, who tailed her king like a grim shadow.

"I guess that makes me the cat. Doesn't it, Fushimi-san?" she purred mischievously.

_Tsk_.

Even though the men before them clamoured pitifully as horrified eyes scanned the building for escape, Mikoto's heart couldn't feel sympathy. All he could see at that moment was red, the red of the blood they spilled from his pride. It was on Rikio's shirt, in Neirah's hair, on Tatara's hands, and it was deep in his veins. It was his blood, their blood. When he couldn't bottle the rage anymore, he felt it spill from his core in the swell of his crimson aura. The brilliant burst ignited the room and highlighted the determined features of his pride at his back. It was his unspoken command, or to Misaki, the sound of the clamp releasing on his leash.

Misaki's sinister sneer intensified as he placed one foot alongside his skateboard and lowered his centre of gravity in preparation to launch. His wringing grip twisted on the handle of the blunt-force weapon he was ready to stain. "No blood… no bone… no ash…" he growled. The chant repeated in low and intensifying waves between the members until the thundering warning could be heard in the streets by innocent bystanders passing by.

Outside the building, Izumo dropped the butt of his light onto the pavement, hissing out his last breath of toxin as he smeared the remains against the asphalt with the toe of his shoe. "No blood. No bone. No ash," he hummed softly to himself. "Sorry, boys, but you messed with the wrong little lion. I can only keep the peace for so long."

With every escape route intercepted and burning eyes fixed, Mikoto finally removed his first hand from his pocket to rake his fingers back through his hair. The way things were going, they wouldn't be out long, which was reassuring, because knowing that Tatara and Anna were somewhere alone together worried him. With that worry weighing his heart, he rumbled his command certainly among the hushed crowd to sentence their enemies to cremation.

"Burn them."

And Neirah's wicked beam twisted.

_I guess I felt it from the start, what Kusanagi-san saw first, my capacity to be like my king. But I'm not like him. I was never in control. No matter how tightly I clung to those final traces of sanity, it was only a matter of time until I lost the only battle that really mattered._

_Who am I talking to? Where am I?_

_Why did you touch me?_

_All I wanted was to be like you, but as it turns out, I'm far too violent._

_There is a fine line between pride and purpose._

_Who knew it was so flammable?_


	33. Kendo

**Kendo**

* * *

After choking out a triumphant laugh, Misaki was the first one to launch into battle, a dangerous glint in his eyes that promised to support his sinister smile. "You seriously thought you could hide from Mikoto-san?! Don't make me laugh!" With a determined bark, he wove his skateboard between enemies and approached the one at the heart that seemed to be taking refuge behind an assembled frontline. If he was lucky, that one was their leader.

He was feeling confident when he kicked up the front of his board, charging head-first with both hands secured around his bludgeoning tool. He hadn't expected his target to withdraw a rusted prybar from behind his submissive stance, powerfully intercepting the attacking force. Misaki's exclamation was startled by the unexpected resistance. "What?!"

With all of his might, the man heaved on the youth's aggression and collapsed him back onto his wheels to roll back into HOMRA's pressing frontline. "Take those smug looks off your faces!" he ordered from the center of the invaded space. "You think we're just gonna sit here and let you wipe us out?! Think again! We've dealt with bigger threats than the likes of you over the years!"

A reinforced mob thundered their agreement. "Yeah!"

Their disrespectful uproar made Misaki's teeth grind. "Why you-"

"They're just blowing smoke," Saruhiko interrupted distastefully. "Don't let them get under your skin."

"But they're talkin' shit about Mikoto-san!"

_Tsk_. Saruhiko's jaw locked impatiently at his comrade's edgy retort, and it became a struggle to pry it apart in response. "They didn't say a damn thing about him."

In the doorway next to Rikio, Saburōta casually twirled a black tonfa in his lead arm, a devious snicker rumbling in response to their enemies' enthusiasm. "Well, that's a relief," he confidently derided. "Onē-san's watching, so you've gotta last at least long enough for me to show off my new moves."

Rikio doubtfully groaned as he swatted away the clumsy rotation of his ally's weapon handling. "Watch where you're swinging those things, would ya?!"

"Yeah, and turn the creep-factor down a bit," Masaomi ground. "It's bad enough listening to it from the other side." He gave his head an indicating tilt to direct their attention towards Yō.

In response, Yō narrowed his impatient glower on his instigating friend. "Y' know, it's kinda insulting when she goes off about me corrupting her precious _Wolf-kun_. He's the king of lame."

With a dull growl, Saburōta slipped his weapon through his fingers to clasp the end before reaching past Masaomi to beat Yō in the head with it. "At least I'm the king of something!"

"I'm about to be the king of _kick your ass_!"

Without redirecting his attention, Masaomi held both hands out to either side to block his friends by their chests as they reached to thrash each other. He didn't seem overly concerned that Saburōta maintained the edge in reach over Yō, repeatedly knocking the top of his head with his club. "Can you two just focus on the bastards who made Tsukiyo bleed?"

All at once, focus returned to the confrontation at hand. "Alright, you heard Mikoto-san. Time to light 'em up," Yō growled. "So, which one of you landed the hit, huh? If you speak up, I'll make this quick." He gave his knuckles a rolling crack. "Promise."

"It doesn't matter who did it if they're all ash by morning!" Misaki snapped. "I'll teach you to mess with HOMRA!"

Upon catching the sight of one of the men acting pitifully skittish, Rikio's gaze immediately diverted from their charge towards the alarmed fidgeting. "Wait, it's you." When the man shrieked and prepared to retreat through Saruhiko's flames regardless of their intensity, Rikio lurched forward, throwing his fist out in front of him with a bitter snarl. "Oi! You're not getting away again!"

Before Rikio could take another step, Misaki's observation darted from his first target's wailing over the impact of his metal bat to where the mark Rikio was addressing began to flee. "Wait, is that the fucker who hurt Tsukiyo!?"

Neither of them could advance. The moment Neirah had laid her eyes on the one who always managed to slip through her fingers, she ripped her chain from around her hips in a brilliant burst of garnet flames that cut off even her allies' paths to the potential victim. When Misaki stumbled backwards, his chest a breath away from where she'd launched her kunai straight past him, he jolted his observation towards her dash to catch up with the flaming dart.

"This one is mine," she scowled purposefully. She leapt over her weapon, tumbling across the floor before lurching back to her feet on the other side of the blockade, pausing only momentarily to swing her heel into the jaw of a man foolish enough to attack her. When she was steady, she jerked on her chain to recall it and skipped over the slack. "I'll leave the rest to you, Yata!"

Misaki huffed out an impatient snort like a bull preparing to charge, his brow creased with notes of annoyance. "And_ I'm_ the impatient one," he mocked. He braced his stance, shaking his fist at the sight of her departure. "You'd better come back soon, y' hear me?!" She shouldn't have been running off alone in the first place with the injury she'd suffered earlier that day. "Oi! Tsukiyo, I'm talkin' to you!"

"Save it," Saruhiko snarled beneath his breath. "Even if she did hear you, you know she wouldn't listen to a thing you just said."

"Ain't nobody askin' you," Misaki growled with a subtle flush in his cheeks.

"What? Are you worried that somebody might hurt your girlfriend when you're not there to protect her?"

"You lookin' to turn this fight three ways?!" he roared redundantly. "Geez, what's even gotten into you lately that you're always so pissy? Tsukiyo's our _friend_. I'm lookin' out for our _friends_."

With a disgruntled sigh, Saruhiko audibly rolled his eyes. "She's just the only one that smells like flowers."

Misaki's blush intensified furiously. "You watch your mouth, Monkey!"

After Saburōta twirled his blazing baton along his arm and snapped it across the face of his aggressor, he suddenly jolted his attention towards her departure with a disappointed frown. "But… my cool new moves…" Saburōta hacked on his next breath as Misaki turned around and beat him on the top of his head to take out his frustrations against Saruhiko.

"If you want to get her attention, stop being such a dweeb!"

"What's this?" Yō crooned. "The virgins are giving each other love advice? Kusanagi-san's gonna love this." After sprinting by the altercation, he skidded to a stop and slammed the hook of his fiery heel into the brute to oppose him. When that didn't cripple him, he popped up into a spunky front kick that knocked the man's jaw back. Once his target was dazed, he turned his back on the attacker, jerked his elbow into his gut and then captured his arm, dragging the howling mass over his shoulder onto the floor.

Masaomi's movements were fast enough to blink and miss, but he still managed to roll his eyes as he operated. In an instant, he jarred his toes into the back of his mark's leg, knocking the man to his knees before his scorching shin struck the side of the thug's head. Upon his follow-through, he finished Yō's attack by slamming his heel into the solar plexus of their combined victim. "Can you two fight over fantasies later? _Please_? Nē-chan isn't into either of you."

Saburōta jerked stiffly to one side like the words deeply offended him. "Wait, how do you know what she's into?"

On the other hand, Misaki was burning with more than rage as he lashed out with a straight arm and clobbered his charging opponent with an impatient curse. "Shut up! That's not what this is!"

His next breath caught in his lungs as he whirled through his distraction to face an oncoming threat just scarcely a whisper away from his face. Luckily, his trusted partner was covering for his interruption with an impatient click of his tongue.

Saruhiko's sharp eyes burned as he watched his knife pierce the shoulder of his target just on the other side of Misaki's face. Once the assailant had been staggered, Misaki finished the crippling effort by clubbing him to the ground. "I don't care what you _think_ you're doing, just pay attention," he hissed. Saruhiko's agitation intolerantly festered as he whirled to cover himself with the launch of three precise tosses. It was one thing to keep his partner safe, but it became another matter entirely when he was defending the ginger so he could chat with his new _buddies_. "This place is chaotic," he justified sternly. "There are too many people in this tiny-ass room and not enough time for me to keep a lock on you if you fall behind."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard ya." Misaki's tone was rough with agitation as he kicked up his board and snapped it across his assailant's defence before wheeling across the room back into Saruhiko's midst. He skidded to a stop back-to-back with his aggravated cohort, an eager expression on his face as he watched reinforcements stumble in from below. "I guess if Tsukiyo's not here to tell me which one of these assholes hit her, I'll just have to tear them all apart like they're all guilty."

After clicking his tongue irritably, Saruhiko felt the reassuring pressure of Misaki lining his back and tried to forget that the rest of HOMRA shared the same feelings. They weren't what mattered, so he shut them out. "Then you'd better quit yapping and get to work."

"Right!"

Upon ducking, Saburōta's bitter growl began to escalate as he turned to strike his next opponent across the ribs. Once he'd assaulted his victim, he raised over the whining mass and wove his tonfa between his fingers before gripping it in reverse and clubbing his quarry across the back of his neck to put him to sleep. "Every time," he raged. He tossed the baton, catching it the appropriate way to line his forearm before spinning and raking both into his next attacker. "Why am I always the one getting left behind?!" He jolted to deflect an assault with one arm, rotating backwards to catch his opponent off-guard and whack the back of his head with his second blazing weapon. "It's bad for a man's pride!"

Nearby, Masaomi slammed the butt of his palm against his enemy's chest with a burst of ruby flames. Shortly after, he switched places with Yō, who dropped a scalding heel down onto their prey's clavicle like a guillotine. When Saburōta leaned back, he caught the sight of more enemies charging Masaomi than he could handle while Yō remained distracted. In response, Saburōta's burning gaze flashed behind the top frame of his dark shades before he extended his arm straight behind him and pitched one of his weapons across the room in a wheel of flames to take out the aggressor.

Saburōta was still locked in position when the room had grown quiet again, and Mikoto dropped his hand on the boy's shoulder in passing. A soft flush stole Saburōta's face when he tipped his gaze to meet the quiet contentment on Mikoto's face. "A-ah, King?"

"You're right. That was pretty cool." Mikoto rumbled his statement proudly, causing Saburōta to jerk on his hood in a sheepishly prideful fluster. He'd have to remember to use that move the next time Neirah was around, so he took a mental note. "Do me a favour and keep them busy," Mikoto softly encouraged. "We've got company."

* * *

Neirah could feel the fire in her eyes as she charged down the hallway of the abandoned condominium complex after the target, which always managed to slip through her fingers. She was sick of her past coming back to haunt her. She wouldn't let him be a spectre anymore. With an impatient roar, she thrust her first chained dart from the centre of her palm, burying flames in the wall by his nose to keep him from fleeing any further down a branching corridor. "Get back here!" Before he could consider the dead-end that the door behind him would lead to, she tossed the kunai at her tailbone into the frame to urge him to reconsider.

So, he did. When the partition by his fleeing face combusted, he turned wild eyes to Neirah's approach. Just before she'd given her last lunge, he made the swift decision to turn his frantic face towards the large picture window in the room at his back before crashing into it and sailing through the broken glass.

Left to drop her centre of gravity and skid to a stop, Neirah let out a livid squeal through ground teeth, furiously stamping her foot in a tantrum. "Coward!" she cried. "You're not going to get away again!" Without an ounce of hesitation, she powered through the window over the ledge, dragging her chain with her. It slowed her descent momentarily with a sharp shudder before the hook released from the supports and her heels clattered against the pavement below. The man was easy to trace by the trail of blood droplets he'd left along the alley he retreated through, but she didn't have to follow them long when she raised her gaze from her toes to see that he'd been staggered by their back-up.

As she climbed to her feet, her expression immediately brightened. "Hah! Kusanagi-san! You got him!"

"You're losing your edge, little lion," he chided playfully in a low murmur. He raised his fingers to his lips, sucking on the filter of his cigarette while Neirah stood at peace with the realization that he'd cornered her target. He dropped his hand along with his light back to his hip before raising his leg. He shoved the toe of his shoe against the man's shoulder at his feet, rocking the unstable mass with playful pressure. "To think that this one made it all the way out here to me."

She snorted with spunk as she jerked on her chain to unbury it from the rubble of her incline before launching it towards her game to bind his blubbering carcass. "I was just playing with him a bit, that's all." She jerked on her bind until the winded man began to gag. "This has nothing to do with my trip to Nagasaki."

"I was just makin' sure you weren't goin' soft on us," he drawled smoothly. "You're our fierce hunter, after all."

Rolling her eyes, Neirah gave a delicate chortle in response. "Be right back." A playful giggle stole her expression before she leapt backwards over her hands, bounding up the fire escape of the building to reclaim the dart she'd left behind.

"Be careful doin' stuff like that in those shoes!" he hollered worrisomely. "If those heels of yours get stuck in that grate, you're gonna break your damn neck."

In the quiet alley, Izumo sat sucking on the toxin between his lips, watching the ugly scene of a grown man pleading for mercy as hot chain links began to sear his skin. "Just what did she do to you back then?" His interest stirred as he watched the man whimper his terror in a snivelling mess. "Now you've got me curious."

Suddenly, Izumo's posture stiffened to the awareness that he wasn't alone, and when he heard the slow draw of a blade behind him, he couldn't keep his smile from growing as he slowly turned over his shoulder.

"Awashima, ready."

He'd always liked it better when her blonde locks spilled wildly over her shoulders. Stacking them neatly on the top of her head made her look far too tame for his liking. But, he supposed, it only irritated him because he knew better. "Seri-chan," he purred fondly. "Fancy meeting you in a dingy hole like this."

"You think so?" she instigated frigidly. "But this is exactly the kind of place I'd expect to see you HOMRAs."

"Ice cold," he whispered humbly. He dropped the butt of his smoke from his hand and snapped his fingers to ignite it stylishly before it could touch the ground. "Just the way I like you. It's a nice contrast from the hotheads I'm surrounded by day-in and day-out."

"You always did have a way with words," she added callously. "It's too bad that's all you are."

"Ouch," he hummed. "Twist that finger a little more, why don't you?" He closed his eyes, tilting his head with a fond smirk. "Y' know, I'd like to see you do any better with that zoo I'm stuck with."

"Oh yes," she mocked dryly. "Lions and tigers and bears-" Her words caught behind the most unexpected feeling of lips pressed against hers that she would never have dreamed of imagining. Then, when she opened wild crystalline eyes to meet the scrunched-up nose of HOMRA's hunter, she barely stifled the mortified squeal surging in her incapacitated lungs. Seri wasn't sure why she took the time to shift her eyes towards Izumo like she thought the stunned bartender might have offered her aid. Still, when she began to absorb the impact of Neirah's lips, crushing hers in a tight-lipped purse, she blindly thrust her sabre towards the force gagging her command. "You, vulgar heathen!" she wailed upon release. "Unhand me this instant!"

Neirah's cackle was sinister with delight as she bounced back by Izumo's side, wiping her lips like there was a taste to banish. "I should have painted my lips so that I could mark my territory properly," she drawled. There was a hot flash of crimson behind her sparkling eyes as she watched both of Seri's hands tremble around the hilt of her sword. She lowered her voice to a dull whisper as she continued through her satisfied beam, working her reclaimed throwing knife between her fingers before returning it to her waistline beneath an unruly curtain of dark auburn waves. "Think of how lovely my red would look against all that blue."

After stealing a moment to regain his composure and smear the perspire away from his nape, an apologetic Izumo heaved an unsettled sigh. "You'll have to excuse her, Lieutenant. She's recently suffered a pretty nasty blow to the head."

Seri's bark was filled with wrathful passion as she locked her hands around her sword in preparation for combat. "You keep that- that _beast_ on a leash!"

Izumo let a low groan catch in his throat as Neirah lightly mocked Seri's claim with a sultry purr, but he didn't take his eyes off the blue clansman. "Neirah? Why don't you scamper off and find someone else to play with? I don't know if you've noticed, but Bandō's picked up some pretty nifty little tricks while you were away."

"But Onii-chan~" she sang in a low whine. When her flashing leer focussed like a predatory animal on the sight of Seri's defiant posture, she rolled her tongue over her lips to tease the intense beauty into a frenzy. "I'd much rather stay and play with _dolls_."

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'll keep tabs on your little friend here." Dismissing her instigation, he slipped a fresh cigarette between his lips with trembling fingers as he spoke, igniting the end and revelling in the flood of poison filling his lungs after what he'd just witnessed. "Awashima-san and I have some catching up to do anyway."

With a disappointed moan, Neirah threw her head over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at her casual ally. "Onii-san always hogs Seri-chan."

"Neirah."

"Fiiine."

Izumo couldn't help but smile as he stood next to the man Neirah had bound, listening to him beg Seri for help in releasing him. Unfortunately, his nightmare wasn't over, not by a longshot, and Izumo supported that.

When Izumo opened his eyes again, he raised his gentle gaze towards where Seri was still heaving with bitter fury. That vulnerability was a good look for her. "She's got you shakin', Seri."

"I am _not_ afraid of that spastic little monster!" she ardently refuted.

A slightly satisfied smile twisted around his cigarette as he casually popped the top off his lighter with a musical ping. "Well, now, you couldn't be all in a fluster over me, could you?"

Her expression hardened with focus as she steadied her sword in preparation for conflict.

Moments later, Izumo was sprinting out of the alley with a gentle snigger, grabbing a lamp post to swing his momentum into Seri's incoming, airborne strike. "Okay, I understand," he prattled sarcastically. "I'd be angry too." He lunged backwards just in time to avoid Seri's relentless force crippling the already weathered pavement beneath their feet.

"If you can't tame that wild animal, you should keep her locked in that cage you call a bar!"

Izumo lined the street between them with a series of molten sparks to keep her at a safe distance for them to converse, but Seri didn't seem interested in talking. "Now, now, that's not entirely fair."

"You're the keeper of beasts, aren't you?" She straightened her sword alongside her head and braced her stance. "That's why you refer to that place as your _zoo_."

"Maybe so," he sassed spiritedly. "But I'm not the one who tames them."

Her blade locked on his poise, her tone flattening with malcontent. "Spare me."

A light chortle caught in his throat as he straightened, one hand flopping limply by his side as the other rested in his pocket. "Sure," he sassed. "But tell me somethin', Seri. What brings you all the way out here? Are the rumours true? Ol' Munakata's trackin' resistance from his own clan? That's gotta be harsh."

"That's none of your business, HOMRA!" Seri shouted.

"So, it's true then," he carefully noted. "That's mighty interesting…"

In the building red and blue quarrelled alongside, Mikoto's ears began to burn with the sound of boot heels rhythmically clicking through timber and shards of glass towards their destructive wave that swallowed the operation spanning the block. Once he caught notice, his senses hummed to life. A low growl tickled his throat as his sadistic smile broadened before the humid cloud exhaling like exhaust. "There you are," he groaned.

"I must say, you have a rather insatiable appetite for revenge that borders the sociopathic." A deceitful song hummed in Reisi's voice as he stalled in the centre of the opening the Red Clan had blasted through the centre of the building on their charge. He gently touched his finger to the bridge of his nose to adjust his glasses, opening analytical violet eyes on the wake of destruction following Mikoto's every step. "I find it utterly disturbing."

"It's the Blue King," Misaki growled under his breath. He tapped the end of his bloodied bat against the floorboards with a menacing clatter. "He's got balls showin' his face here alone like that."

Yō advanced a step with a territorial snarl. "Bastard's on our turf now. Should we waste him?"

"No."

Startled into submission, Yō respectfully turned his gaze towards where Mikoto derided his effort with his subtle command. "Mikoto-san?"

"This was just a warm-up," Mikoto rumbled upon crossing past the youth. "Go find Neirah and that guy she was chasing. Then, burn 'im 'til he talks."

"What!?" Misaki barked wrathfully. "You mean this wasn't their real hideout?!"

Misaki's raving was rudely interrupted by the confident chortle of their glowing cerulean visitor in the dark doorway. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," Reisi instigated dryly. "You see, we happened to be passing by when we heard the commotion, but since we're here, I thought it proper to remind you that conflicts like these-"

"Save it." Mikoto's blood was simmering on high despite the sinister beam on his face as he glowered at his cocky rival. His flames leapt from his skin in an intense burn, igniting his flesh with a heat capable of causing his clansmen to step away. "Like I said, this was only a warm-up. Now that I'm good and hot, what do y' say we take this outside, Munakata?"

"How quaint," Reisi sassed. "You say that like you have any regard towards the fate of this structure. You've already scorched your way through the majority of it, so what's one more hole?"

Mikoto braced his stance, drawing his fist back towards his head as he glowered at the Blue King. "You talkin' about the hole I'm gonna make when I blast you through to the other side?"

The hitch on Reisi's sword sang upon its release when his palm fell against the golden hilt. "Actually, I was referring to the one you'll leave once I toss you back out into the street where you belong."

The sound of Mikoto's ire and the look on his face noted two very conflicting truths as he charged their untimely guest. "Munakata!"

"Ready," Reisi finished keenly. "Forgive me, Awashima-san, but this is personal."

* * *

The night was peaceful as Tatara walked through the street with his hand wrapped around Anna's soft fingertips. He didn't mind strolling so that she could take her time. He quite enjoyed their time together regardless of the pace. "Anna-chan? What do you say we go find somewhere that sells ice cream?"

"This late?"

With a gentle laugh, Tatara diverted his sheepish expression awkwardly to the side. "Oh? Does Kusanagi-san not let you have sweets this late at night?"

"No." He was moments from being relieved when the tender Strain spoke again. "All the shops are closed this late."

"Ah, but it's true," he surrendered in dismay. "I just don't know what to do with someone your age at this time of night. Karaoke, maybe?"

Anna shook her head. "It's okay." She didn't shift her gaze as she raised a tiny red marble to her left eye and peered out over the slumbering city around them. "Spending time with Tatara is nice too."

Tatara's heart filled with hopeful pride and purpose as he straightened with confidence. "Awe, Anna-chan, that's-"

With her gentle gasp, Anna's fingers clenched around Tatara's soft grip on her hand. "Mikoto."

"E-eh?" Tatara opened his eyes and looked down at her through his confusion. "I was going to say sweet, but I suppose-"

The child interrupted him by throwing her delicate finger forward and pointing into the sky where a monstrous crimson sword cut the night over Shizume City above where Mikoto had activated his kingly sanctum. "H-hah? Isn't that… King's Sword of Damocles?!"

Tatara's blood chilled, causing him to grind his teeth and choke the pulse out of Anna's hand when he saw the night break around the jagged blue edges of Reisi's mark next to Mikoto's. Without another thought, Tatara tightly seized Anna's wrist and began to hasten down the street. "Okay, Anna-chan, it's time to run now."

"Okay."

Somewhere across town, heaving breaths filled the night as Andy charged the sight of his king's sword raising high above the city. "That can't be good," he rushed out frantically. "That's the third king's sword! Suoh Mikoto must have been nearby!"

Andy's shoulder-length ginger locks dusted his cheeks with the speed in which he whirled to face the sound of his commander putting up resistance. With a startled gasp, his emerald eyes widened, and his grip tightened on his sabre's handle. "Lieutenant Awashima-san!"

After a colossal snap, Seri landed hard against the pavement, her boots skidding against the coarse surface as she dusted her fingers between her legs to steady her slide. In observing her, Andy narrowly dodged the lamppost that ended up falling in her wake.

"Go!" Seri commanded. "Take the others and find the captain! Suoh Mikoto has already activated his sanctum, so prepare for battle!"

The clamp locking Andy's sword released, allowing him to draw the blade fluidly from its sheath in preparation to uphold her command. "Will do!" the youth announced eagerly with a small smile. "Dōmyōji-" The shrill sound of a woman's excited squeal interrupted him, and he quickly jerked his head towards where Seri was too preoccupied with flames to utter such a sound. With a vexed expression, he began scouring the area around him before realizing that the noise had come from above. "Eh?"

Dust rose in the street as Neirah barreled into the boy in blue, knocking him right off his feet with her surprise attack. "I remember you," she sang spiritedly. "Long time, no see."

After shaking his rattled head from his backside, Andy startled to the sight of Neirah in his lap and offering him a flirtatious wink. He immediately recoiled. "Gah! You're that crazy lion lady!"

"Do you mind if I borrow your toy? My chains are all tied up, at the moment."

Andy scrambled forward, still too shocked to comprehend that she was nearby much less apprehending his weapon. "Excalibur is not a toy!" He grunted when he thumped against the street in the space that she'd occupied moments before. "Damn it! Where did she go!?"

The fire in Neirah's eyes surged as the whirled on her heels to lock blades with her pursuer confidently. "There we go," she sneered under her breath. "And I bet you thought I would go quietly. How underhanded, attacking me when I'm unarmed."

From beneath long forest bangs, one dark eye flashed in the disturbed streetlights as he locked his calm observation on the destructive beauty opposing his blade. "I wouldn't have had to give chase if you had come quietly."

After regaining his composure, Andy leapt to his feet in observation of the blade lock. "Akiyama-san!"

With a low growl, Neirah surrendered to the steady grip opposing her borrowed arms, and she leapt back to avoid the increasing pressure. "Mm, you know, when a cute boy chases after me, it's usually because he has a _death wish_." Her threat was sultry and melodic as she filled it with malice. "Just so you know, my big brother says I can't date until I'm thirty."

Unaffected by her pestering, Himori straightened and locked his sword in front of his nose, preparing for the spunky woman to strike erratically and without notice. He nudged his head to one side, causing the part in his bangs to sway slightly and expose a more direct gaze to her spirited banter. "Don't flatter yourself, Lion. My only goal is to maintain order, and if you don't return Dōmyōji's sabre this instant, I will be obliged to retrieve it by force."

Despite his alert posture, Neirah slouched with a low centre, humming her exhilaration through a bared grin. "I appreciate the warning," she drawled in a euphoric tone. "I'll be sure to hold on to it as long as I desire your dedicated pursuit."

Sensing a disturbance behind her, Neirah quickly dashed out of the way, unintentionally distracted by the new face and leaving Andy with an opportunity to strike. She leaned back, narrowly avoiding Andy's martial strike. Her avoidance left him unbalanced, so when she shifted, she knocked his legs out from beneath him and let him continue to fall. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" she praised. "You remind me of another spunky hothead who likes to rush into things."

Andy was quick to roll back to his feet, refusing to let her get the best of him a second time. He'd grown since they'd first met, and he was determined to prove it to her. "Give it back!" he demanded. "That sword has a purpose, you know! It doesn't belong in the hands of HOMRA!"

Neirah's sharp eyes snapped over her shoulder as Himori approached, and before his cerulean strike could land on her, she ignited the blade between her hands in crimson flames and let the auras collide. "Are you insinuating that I don't have a purpose?" The swords clashed, bouncing off one another a couple of times before Neirah swept the edge across her front, chasing Himori out of her space.

"No! What are you doing!?" Andy whined his alarm as he clenched his fingers in his hair. The sight of his Excalibur ignited in flame was an utterly horrifying vision that had him back on his feet and charging the agile woman's stance. "Keep your flames off it!"

Annoyed by the energetic efforts of her attacker, she rotated the blade skillfully in her hands, shuffling it to one side before beating Andy's advance with her burning leg. The boy immediately locked his guard, boot heels grinding against the street as he shoved backwards, and before he could recover, she ripped her kunai from her belt.

Himori's gaze flashed beneath his heavy bangs when he listened to his team member yelp among the surge of flames erupting from the golden knife. "Dōmyōji!" Before he could step away from Neirah's midst, the woman was hammering on his steady sword with the force of fire supporting her borrowed blade. "You're a tenacious shrew, aren't you?" he hissed beneath the violet ignition of their standoff.

"My pride is my purpose," she commanded vaguely. "And right now, you're the only thing standing between us." She didn't care how the man before her took her statement. Whether he considered her proud of her ability to match members of SCEPTRE4 with a blade or her dedication to her pack, he was still in her way. Her king needed her, and if she had to play with knives to get back to his side, she would.

Suddenly, Neirah's breathing hitched in harmony with her resistance as the ground shook beneath the force of colliding kings. For a moment, her wild eyes shifted to the sight of smoke and flame gusting through the city with enough power to barrel her over. Luckily, the same strength had staggered a cough from her opponent, and both of them had to put up their arms to cover their eyes from unsettled debris. "King-sama!"

Himori hacked on the street dust rushing past their altercation with the force of the collision. "Captain!"

When the dust had begun to settle, Neirah's heart was racing, and she grew eager to return to her pride. She snapped her teeth together, her second hand joining her first around the hilt of her sword as she swung powerfully towards the murky cloud concealing her target. "That's enough," she thundered. She ignited the sword, her hot gaze flashing with focus as she hammered her attack in a precise slice. "I don't have time for any more of your games!"

The sound of steel ringing was deafening, but no matter how much force she'd packed behind her attack, her blade didn't go any further than was allowed by the one to interrupt it. The street had gone quiet, which was why her heartbeat echoed in her ears as wild eyes stared at the blade to oppose her. Sometime during the commotion of kings scuffling around her, her opponent had altered. When she realized that her expression had likely faltered in alarm, she quickly replaced her impatient scowl as she locked blades with the fourth king himself.

"Ah, HOMRA's Red Lioness wielding a sabre. Should I take this as your interest in our cause?"

Neirah's bitterly flashing gaze narrowed on the sight of the arrogant man wrathfully. "_Lion_," she corrected firmly. "Red _Lion_."

"Oh?" he tormented. "But you're a woman."

Her words rushed out in a sarcastic snarl. "Does it matter?"

"Neirah." Mikoto's sharp amber leer oversaw the altercation, and taut muscles prepared to leap to her defence should the Blue King take to the offensive. The Red Clan had assembled at his back, less Rikio and Saburōta, not unlike the way the Blue Clan had supported their king. The pressure in the street was tangible, but when Neirah turned her pleading gaze his way, she humbled by the sight of Tatara and Anna next to her king. The supportive smile Tatara had offered her immediately calmed her riled nerves.

From where he stood next to Mikoto's side, Izumo casually snapped his fingers, causing Neirah to immediately retract her threat, leaving Andy's blade to clatter against the pavement at Reisi's feet.

"Impressive," Reisi hummed spiritedly. He leaned down and picked up the blade, passing it off to a grateful Andy who was quick to apologize for letting the weapon get into the hands of another clan. "I see you've taught her some new tricks since the last time we met."

They were like dogs, every one of them, and Neirah was no exception. That thought made Saruhiko sick to his stomach as he watched the orderly line of blue assemble behind Reisi while a disorderly mob swarmed Mikoto. Every man surrounding him was victim of the same incurable weakness, pitifully affectionate one minute and then downright vicious given the right inspiration with no sense of the world outside the one they'd created. At that moment, he was utterly embarrassed to be standing next to them.

"Stick around, and you might find out what else she's good at." Izumo sighed his mild exasperation as Neirah swiftly returned to Mikoto's shadow where she belonged, but the tension in her balled fists noted that she wasn't particularly happy about it.

"A provocative invitation," Reisi instigated. "But I think I'll pass."

"Sir," Seri interrupted callously. "A few of Suoh Mikoto's clansmen managed to apprehend one of the victims of tonight's ambush."

"Is that so?"

"_Ambush_?" Izumo interrupted. "Is that what you think this was?"

"That's why you blues should mind your own damn business," Masaomi rumbled. "We had a damn good reason for bein' here."

"Don't worry. We'll let him go once we get what we need out of him," Mikoto casually interjected. "So, don't let it keep you up at night."

"Suoh, need I remind you what happened the last time you interfered on a personal grudge?" Reisi touched his brow with a strained sigh, impatiently educating the barbarian at his front. "His Excellency wasn't overly pleased with you."

As the flames began to swell around him, Mikoto's wrathful gaze tapered on the sight of his rival with a bitter snarl. "_His Excellency_ isn't my problem right now, _you are_."

"Now, now, King," Tatara kindly moderated. "Let's not be too hasty now that we've finally gotten everybody calmed down." Once he finished cooling his counterpart, Tatara released Anna's hand to wave back at the blue clan with a welcoming smile. "Sorry about that!" he sang. "But you see, the thing is, these people kind of started this whole thing when they attacked one of us. We're just making sure that it doesn't happen again."

Reisi didn't seem convinced. "Are you suggesting that violence is an acceptable means to respond to violence?"

"What a barbaric ideal," Seri sneered impatiently under her breath. Her blood boiled when Neirah poked her head around Mikoto's torso to stick her tongue out at the aggravated woman. The suggestive action caused Seri's cheeks to ignite with wrathful humility. "Keep that tongue behind your teeth, you beast! Unless you'd like me to remove it."

"You're lookin' for a couple of your pals here in Shizume City, aren't you?" Izumo smoothly interrupted. "I wonder what's scared them off into these parts. Be a real shame if you found out you were speaking hypocritically." Seri's mouth gaped like she was preparing to address his conceit, but before she could utter the sound, Izumo pressed. "Let me guess; it's none of our business."

Reisi could feel his second-in-command tensing by his side in a fluster, so to steady her nerves, he calmly flashed his hand in front of her to ensure that their petty squabble was through. "Well played, Kusanagi-san," he murmured admirably. "Perhaps we should leave you to your business, then, and you should leave us to ours."

Mikoto's wicked smirk curled up to one side as Reisi raised his hand to dismiss his troops, but he refused to turn his back on the Blue King in his own territory. Reisi could depart first, and then he would take his leave, but no sooner. "Don't worry," he droned. "If we see any bluecoats kickin' around, we'll be sure to let you know."

Reisi raised his piercing indigo gaze towards Mikoto's instigation, perceptibly picking up on the man's subtle threat. "I'm sure you will," he mocked dryly. "Until then, Suoh."

"Try not to miss me."

Outside of anyone else's comprehension, Reisi could feel his temperature rise. It wasn't that what he suffered during their encounters were losses, per se, but they weren't victories either, and that bothered him. He hated being unable to wipe that sarcastic smirk off his rival's face, no matter the circumstance. All he could hope as he set to depart was that Mikoto felt the same way when he no more than scoffed at the Red King's instigation. "I'll try."


	34. Knissomancy

**Knissomancy**

* * *

Poised and unaffected by the suspicion of meek gazes to observe, Neirah slid her sapphire eyes over the sight of metal sheets rolling down over storefronts for the night. It was closing time for the mall around her, for most shops, at least. She could tell that she made most business owners uncomfortable by the way their skittering gazes retreated as soon as she locked her focussed sights on them. Sometimes she felt like they lowered their shades as soon as they heard the rhythmic clicking of her heels against the linoleum. It made her consider that her reputation might have relentlessly preceded her good intentions.

It was a pitiful sight, but one she wasn't interested in as she calmly passed by them. The only stall she was wouldn't close for something so ridiculous. After watching another woman lock her storefront with fumbling fingers, she redirected her eyes towards the sight of smoke swirling from the shop at the end of the hall. Royal coloured curtains spilled out from the opening, making the gateway look flamboyant compared to the metallic sheets around it. The LED glow of vending machines lighting up the dark chamber across the hall made the entire shop look mysterious. Neirah could already smell the incense burning, the woodsy aroma beckoning her through the passage that might as well have delivered her to another world entirely. But that was fine. She was used to slipping between worlds, so the novelty had long since eroded.

"Well, well, well." Alluring green eyes peeked through the swirling haze and scrutinized the woman to step into her midst. "Our proud hunter returns, just as I predicted." After gently blowing the smoke that she held behind plum-painted lips, a nearly sinister smile curled them to one side. "How was Nagasaki, Tsuki-chan?"

As soon as Neirah stepped through the entryway, her stony expression warmed with fond sentiment to the smooth instigation of her informant. "It was lovely. Thank you for asking." She could see the subtlety of the woman's scan checking to see if Neirah had come to her alone, and Neirah's attentive senses didn't miss the look of disappointment flashing in her eyes. "I'm sorry to disappoint, Kamiya-san. I'm here for work."

The woman snapped her attention towards Neirah like the mere insinuation was insulting. "Maki," she corrected sternly. "I'm beginning to understand what your king has to suffer through on a regular basis." She closed her eyes and flopped a graceful palm to one side of her exasperated sigh. "It's a wonder that beautiful beast puts up with you at all." Maki drew her cigarette holder to her mouth, sucking on the jade mouthpiece before exhaling a relieving breath of the filtered toxin. When she finished, she used the elegant stick as a pointer to indicate her interest in Neirah's modified attire. "Mm, I see you got new boots," Maki teased friskily. She had known the moment she heard Neirah's confident strides clatter more shrilly against the mall tiles, her steps singing in a different key. Leaning her chin in the palm that she propped on her desk by her elbow, her lips twisted into a casual smile. "Poor Yata-chan must be thrilled."

Without interrupting her fluid approach, Neirah stepped forward and sat on the shopkeeper's desk, stretching one of her legs out high above their heads before folding it over the other. When she tipped her head back, the ends of her hair dusted the rosehips speckling the surface of the desk. "Do you like them? Dewa-kun picked them out for me before my trip."

A gentle moan reverberated between the ladies before Maki spoke again. "He always did have an eye for fine wares~"

Neirah turned her impatient pout over her shoulder, and as anticipated, she met the cunning smirk of her host watching her from behind. "Stop that," she growled sullenly. "It's bad enough living with Tat-chan. I don't need it from you too."

Maki laid her hands down against her desk by Neirah's side with a soft whine. "Tsuki-chaaan~ You can't make me wait forever!"

After rotating, Neirah popped off her friend's desk and leaned her weighted bust against the purpleheart surface of the wood stained with the scent of incense that soaked into the grain on a nightly basis. "Did I not just say I was here for work?"

Maki shimmied closer, meeting Neirah nearly nose-to-nose over the desk. "It will take ten minutes, I promise."

Lowering her voice to a near-whisper, Neirah gently shook her head. "I don't need you to read my love fortune," she reiterated firmly under her breath. "And if you don't stop asking, I'm going to stop bringing Tat-chan with me when I visit."

Maki fled backwards, spreading her fingers so her long acrylic nails could splay between her breasts over her heart. "You wouldn't dare keep my darling Totsuka from me."

A wicked smirk brightened Neirah's playful expression as she screwed her face up into a delicate little knot. "I would and will if you don't stop shipping me with my friends. Don't think that I don't know you two are in league with each other." Neirah turned and waved her arms high in the air. "Conspiracies! I get it from all sides!"

Maki straightened with a subtle exhalation, leaning on her elbow before returning her extended cigarette to her tinted lips. "Oh please, I don't have to read your palm to know that you're curious, and what woman wouldn't be? You're strange, but not that strange."

"Flattered," Neirah cooed upon swaying her head to the other side. She smiled to consider how Tatara classified her brand of unusual as _interesting_ instead. "Tat-chan says it nicer, and he's the only one I need. We're going to be together forever, so there's no room for anyone else. Besides, Onii-san won't let me date until I'm thirty. You know that."

Maki seemed interested again as she leaned forward in her seat. "You're not even remotely interested in anything more? You're content going through your entire life with no one to kiss, no one to squeeze."

A rebellious Neirah snorted curtly and tossed her nose up into the air. "First of all, I have plenty of kisses in my life."

The fortune-teller flopped her cigarette holder out with a disapproving hiss, raising her forefinger from the stem to point at her guest. "Those don't count. Those are for luck, and if you can breathe through it, it's no good."

"Disgusting," Neirah droned.

"I can't believe you're almost nineteen years old and you've never had a proper kiss."

"My kisses are proper."

Maki clicked her tongue and slowly shook her head. "You sad, sad, child."

"And-!" Despite Neirah's growing impatience, her cheeks still dusted just to consider Maki's insinuation. "I have plenty to squeeze in the wintertime."

The enraged Maki slapped her hand onto the top of her desk in outrage. "I will not have you falling head-over-heels for Kamamoto! My cards won't allow it!"

A triumphant beam lit up Neirah's face as she teased her informant into a frenzy. "If they're tools for reading my fate, then they don't have a say in the matter. Besides, I thought you liked Ri-chan?"

After tossing her cigarette into the ashtray between them, Maki growled lightly and captured Neirah's hand between hers, her frantic gaze beginning to scan the intricate patterns etched into her handprint. "I do, but he's too soft for you. You need yourself a man who can walk on the wild side with the frisky little beastie you've become."

"First of all, I'm quite civilized when I care to be." Quickly jerking her palm away from Maki's clutches, Neirah could hardly stifle her laughter. "Secondly, I am _literally_ surrounded by men who can light themselves on fire. How much wilder can you get?"

The mistress looked insulted as Neirah continued to demean her skilled trade. "I don't think you're taking this seriously, young lady."

"You're right. I'm not." Neirah climbed to her feet with a weary sigh. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm happy with the way things are," she admitted tenderly. "Tat-chan and I are happy together. If one of us settled into a relationship, everything would change."

Maki raised both sets of fingers to her face, intertwining them with a deep furrow in her brow as she analyzed Neirah's fleeting gaze. "And that frightens you, doesn't it?" She watched the hesitancy flash over Neirah's expression for a moment before continuing. "Let's be serious now. You're no good with change, Tsukiyo. It scares you to think that anyone else could mean more to you than Totsuka does. You're afraid that some strong, handsome prince is going to sweep you off your feet, stand by your side as you face tribulations together, forcibly break down all the walls that you've put up to keep them out." After filling her voice with certainty, her focussed leer tapered incredulously to scrutinize the way Neirah's expression softened. "You're worried that Okazaki was right. That you're taking the easy way out, and someday, Totsuka will no longer be everything you need."

Despite their alliance, Neirah felt attacked by the honied words sliding off Maki's tongue, and a part of her worried that there was some mystical truth in her prediction outside of what Neirah willed. Something deep inside her heart wanted to press Gin's involvement. After being reminded that he still hadn't contacted her, she considered asking Maki for her help in that regard, but the woman was already too distracted by other trivialities.

"You don't want me to read your love fortune, because you don't want things to change."

Neirah's mousy voice was weak with uncertainty as Maki's emerald eyes pierced her. "I came here for information-"

"I know."

"And I-"

"How is Fushimi-san?"

Neirah's alert expression startled as Maki derailed their tangent altogether like she'd been satisfied with what she'd surfaced during the visit.

Surrendering that Neirah wasn't going to budge, Maki sighed and picked up her jade flute once more. "He and Yata-chan visited the other day, and he looked paler than usual. I sense a great disturbance within him, but he resists me even more passionately than you do." After sucking a settling inhale of her smoke, Maki seemed to soften. "That man is far too complicated for even me to read, but you've always kept a careful eye on him, haven't you?"

Neirah considered the concern on Maki's face for a moment. It was true. She'd always tried to weave herself into Saruhiko's life, if not just so that he felt like somebody cared. But he remained adamant about keeping her out, so she didn't outwardly persist. Even if she wasn't sure of the reason the man kept checking his shadow for demons, she didn't feel like that was any of Maki's business. Saruhiko was a member of HOMRA, and if he needed someone to care, he had his clan. "Sorry, Kamiya-san, but I really don't know anything," she surrendered. "You know how he is. Maybe you could ask Yata next time you see him."

"I could only imagine," she groaned. "And three hours later, we might manage to get through the pleasantries." Maki sighed, closing her eyes as she spat out a harsh puff of smoke. "Though, I suppose he's come a long way from where he started. But you know he's completely oblivious when it comes to that man," she derided. "Even more so than you about your love life."

"I don't think that's true." Neirah could feel the pressure of Maki's eyes that were locking on her consideration as she spoke. "They've been together for a long time, so assuming that Yata doesn't notice these things just because he doesn't say anything is unfair. It's not how they communicate." She returned her humble expression to where Maki's deriding appearance noted that Neirah was giving the ginger vanguard far too much credit. "Maybe he just doesn't want to see it because he doesn't want things to change. And maybe I can sympathize with that."

A knowing smile twisted Maki's lips as she reached into the front of her dress and slipped a piece of paper from beneath the silky material. "Give my regards to Kusanagi-chan," she purred. "That king of yours is taking a big bite out of the city with this one. Selling Strain abilities isn't something just anyone could pull off. I hate to imagine what those poor kids are going through."

"I'm surprised that the Blue King wasn't on this long before now," Neirah muttered impatiently. "He's all high and mighty about his _purpose_ when he derides ours, but here we are cleaning up his mess."

"Now, now, be fair, Tsuki-chan. He's still learning. It's not his fault he can't be as great and wonderful as our dear HOMRA," she teased. "And you forget, Suoh-kun wouldn't have noticed either if it weren't for Fushimi and Kusanagi. Now that was a match written in the stars."

A low growl rattled in the back of Neirah's throat as she tucked the information retrieved into her shirtfront against the mark on her breast. "I want to say something cheeky right now, but you're absolutely right," she surrendered. "Fushimi-san is a genius, and when you add that level of intelligence to Kusanagi-san's tact, I feel like there's no hole in HOMRA's radar."

"Mm, jealous?" When Neirah threw her head over her shoulder with a dim scoff, Maki smiled knowingly and closed her eyes. "You're the shadow of a kingly flame," she calmly refuted. "Nothing should bring you more honour than knowing that."

Neirah smiled humbly to herself as she watched the smoke of the incense weave through the air. "Can a flame cast a shadow? It glows on all sides. So, wouldn't any shadow it cast just vanish?"

"You're still here, aren't you?"

When Neirah turned away, Maki's pleasant expression faltered as she observed the woman through a spiral of smoky incense, and soon, she almost looked sad. Neirah hadn't noticed, though. She was too busy pulling out her PDA to contact Izumo when she saw that she had a couple of missed messages, one of which made her chuckle.

"You know, it would do you well to keep your ringer on, Tsuki-chan," she teased. "One day, an important call is going to fade into the night because you couldn't be bothered with modern technology."

"Uck, you sound like Onii-san," Neirah groaned upon scanning the messages. "With the way Chitose messages me, the thing would never stop fussing in my jacket." She quickly studied the text, groaning again when her scroll was interrupted by the image Masaomi sent of Misaki, roughing up a defenceless Saburōta. "Well, don't just send me pictures, you fool! Do something!" She banished her mobile with a bitter growl. "Sorry, Kamiya-san, but I have to go. Yata is assaulting my Wolf-kun and Dewa would rather send me pictures than interfere."

Maki replaced her pleasant demeanour and offered the woman a light laugh. "Your wolf, how quaint."

Neirah threw her defiant pout over her shoulder with a slight flush in her cheeks to scorn her insinuation. "I already told you to stop."

"Ah, but what love fortune is more interesting than that of a woman surrounded by the most wonderful men in this city?" she sang. "I envy you, truthfully. If only all of us could be so blessed."

Neirah didn't seem convinced, and she found it quite ironic that anyone could consider a rumoured cursed woman to be blessed. "Then maybe _you'd_ like to go knock all their heads together to get them to settle down. Believe me. They're not nearly as dreamy as you make them out to be."

"Denial, denial, denial. It sounds to me like you need to change your perspective so you can appreciate what you so ungratefully take for granted." She laid one hand against her cheek as the other waved to dismiss Neirah's company. "Very well. Go protect your pet. And don't come back here until you're ready to submit to my curiosity."

A sly expression stole Neirah's face. "I'll send Chitose next time."

At first, Maki looked like she wanted to wrinkle her nose, but soon after, she laid both hands against her cheek with a happy sigh. "You say that like it's a threat, but you know Chitose can't go anywhere without Dewa-kun."

"Well, it's up to perspective whether you want to see it as a threat or promise."

"And Tsuki-chan!"

The tone of Maki's voice startled Neirah into turning to glance her way one last time before departing. "Hm? What is it?"

"Some free advice, because we're friends." There was a desperate crease in Maki's brow even as she kept a tender smile on her face. "Don't keep him waiting forever," she nearly whispered.

Immediately, Neirah's face burst with vivid colour as her guilt took hold of her temperature. She hated the vague ambiguity of Maki's declaration, but it was all a part of her trade. The frustrating portion was that she felt like the expression on the woman's face didn't match her words. "You mean Wolf-kun?" Maki didn't reply. Instead, the woman just closed her eyes over her smile and lowered her head. It was that mystery that caused Neirah's stomach to churn. She thought about the woman's abilities and considered that maybe her fate had already been prodded by her keen interest. But if that was the case, she wasn't sure that the woman's expression was comforting.

For some reason, her heart was feeling heavy as she exited the mall back into the bustling downtown streets. A sense of foreboding washed over her to notice the shift in her friend's demeanour, and she couldn't help but feel Maki spoke those words when she did because there was a duality in their meaning that she could conceal behind Neirah's concern for her friend back at HOMRA.

Her feet began to drag as her distracted thoughts wandered, and she immediately yelped when she bumped square into somebody on passing through the busy intersection. There were times when she was still clumsy, or certainly less than elegant. "Ah, sorry," she muttered in a friendly tone. She gave her head a gentle rub to ease the pain of her smacking her forehead into her victim's chin. "That was clumsy."

"Tsukiyo?"

Neirah's heart palpitated to the sound of the familiar humble address, and she immediately opened her eyes to stare up into a familiar face. "Tanaka?"

"Oi, long time no see!" Haru devilishly sniggered as he reached out and slipped his free hand through the ends of her hair. "Shit, you cut your hair. Never thought I'd see the day."

"And you coloured yours again, I see," she teased. "Brown looks good on you."

"You think so?" The smart-alecky red clansmen released her hair to touch his shaggy, side-swept bangs. "This is actually my natural hair colour if you can believe it. It finally grew out. The upkeep for blonde really sucked when you got roots as dark as mine."

Neirah wasn't sure which of them was most surprised when she laughed. Their introductions had been rocky, at best, and they saw each other few and far between clashes. He didn't spend much time at Izumo's bar, so she could only imagine how startling it was for him to watch her change in leaps and bounds. "You're terribly high-maintenance, aren't you?"

With an entertained snort, Haru raised his second hand to flash her the groceries he'd just picked up. "Tell me about it. This is my first trip to the store in years that I didn't come back with dye."

"You live around here?" She checked the bustling street around her curiously. "I never knew that. So that's why you're the one who keeps up with Kamiya-san for Kusanagi-san."

Haru reached into his bag and pulled a soda from the six-pack he'd toted, popping the tab with a hiss before taking a swig of the refreshment. "Well, ya never cared to ask before, did you?"

_Bitter, as usual_. Neirah smiled fondly with reminiscence. "That was pretty rude of me, wasn't it?" she murmured. "I'm sorry about that."

Haru gagged on the carbonation he'd inhaled with his shock for her statement and immediately started hacking to banish the tickle in his lungs. "Whoa, what the hell?!" He coughed some more, rubbing the spittle from his face before turning to watch where she began to depart. "Did you just apologize to me?"

Neirah's smile broadened as she raised her hand in parting, waving towards him without reconnecting their gazes. "Take care, Tanaka. By the looks of things, we'll be coming together real soon, so we'll catch up then."

Haru blinked a couple of times, completely bewildered by her sentiment. "Shit, was that really Tsukiyo?" He flinched when his PDA started to clamour in his pocket, and he threw his head from one side to the other to try and figure out how he was going to answer it with both hands full. Finally, he freed up one hand by combining his burdens so he could answer the call.

"Tanaka.

Hey! What's up, Chitose? You lookin' to-

Eh? Tsukiyo? Shit, actually, I just ran into her on my way home.

Ah… maybe? I dunno, should I've asked her?" Haru's expression began to dampen hesitantly as the voice on the other line grew aggressively defensive. "Ah… hah, of course not literally. Nope. Not even a little contact. You know me." He raised his drink back to his lips to take a nervous sip, but he spit it out the moment Yō spoke through the line.

"Pft! What!? No, I wasn't lookin' at her ass! I don't feel like dyin' today!" He paused for a moment, rolling his gaze skyward as he continued to listen to his friend prattle on the other line, and soon, he slowly tipped his chin back over his shoulder to steal a peek. Then, just as he caught the disappearance of luscious hips swaying through the crowd, he snapped back to attention. "No! I already told you I didn't feel like dying! She's not even here anymore, jeez!" He crumpled the can in his hand and tossed it over his head as he continued on his way. "Besides, it's not like you're anyone to talk.

Yeah right, put Dewa on the phone!

Yeah… Yeah, that's what I thought.

Fuckin' creep… I'll see you later."

* * *

"Say you're sorry!"

"What?! No way!" Misaki turned and threw up his nose, folding his arms over his chest to completely deny Saburōta's baying. "It's not my fault you're clumsy."

"_Clumsy_!?" Saburōta howled. "You threw me across the floor, and I got a sliver! Now when I take it out, it's gonna get infected, and it'll be all your fault!"

"Are you seriously complaining about something that insignificant?" Masaomi grumbled. "How exactly _did_ you pass Mikoto-san's test?"

"The same way he passes every other test," Yō grumbled nearby. "He cheats."

Saburōta looked utterly mortified when Yō and Masaomi did no more than raise their palms to clap even though they were sitting back-to-back. Their timing was uncanny, and it made Saburōta feel uneasy. "Oi, whatever happened to _it's the thought that counts_? He did it on purpose! That's like the difference between first and second-degree murder!"

"Y' know, it probably wouldn't get infected if you idiots did a better job at keeping this place clean," Izumo calmly interjected. "Now settle down and stop being so damn loud."

Saburōta whirled to face the bartender with hurt on his expression. "It's not about the sliver. It's about malicious intent!"

"Consider it a blood pact, then," Izumo sassed. "Think of how many times Yata-chan's made Kamamoto bleed all over that floor. I guess this kind of makes you blood-brothers now."

That didn't seem to help Saburōta's worry in the slightest. "How can you all say these things so casually?" he hissed out meekly.

"D'awe, who's a beautiful sweetie? You are! Yes, you are!"

He was moments from being relieved that moderation had arrived when he heard the front doorbell chime, but before Saburōta could ask Neirah for her assistance in exacting his revenge, his brow was knotting beneath his cap. "Hold on, what's this?" His confused prattling summoned the attention of their remainder when Neirah stepped into the doorway, baby-talking next to Kōsuke. "E-eh?!" When Kōsuke turned to face Neirah lingering in the entrance, Saburōta's jaw dropped. "H-hey guys," he instigated flatly. "You uh… what ch'ya up to?"

Kōsuke tilted to face Saburōta with a confused look on his face. "Why do you say it like that?"

Poking his forefingers together sheepishly, Saburōta advanced. "I've just never seen you two hang out before. And now Onē-san's callin' you-" He visibly cringed. "…_sweetie_."

Before Kōsuke could speak, Neirah's voice raised on the opposing side of him. "What? We spend time together!" Neirah passionately contested. It hurt Saburōta's pride to realize that her first instinct wasn't to deny calling Kōsuke by such a silly pet name, much less beautiful.

"Ah, well sure, but I-"

"I have _literally_ never seen you two hang out," Masaomi firmly refuted with a disbelieving look on his face.

"That's not true!" Neirah called past Kōsuke's blockade. "There was that one time… ah… You know! Where were we now…?"

The entire room startled when Kōsuke sighed and stepped left to reveal that Neirah was trying to coax a small retriever puppy through HOMRA's front door, causing suspicions to fade. "I found a puppy," Kōsuke murmured. "I think that's who Nē-san's referring to."

"Wait, you _think_!?" Saburōta clamoured.

Saburōta grunted when Yō flopped his elbow on top of the man's hood, tapping the ashes from his cigarette as he observed the way Neirah snuggled up to the fluffy addition. The effort caused Saburōta to sneeze. "Shit, why the hell didn't I think of that?"

"Nuh-uh," Izumo thundered flatly. He slammed his arms across his chest to mark the X of his denial. "Neirah, take that thing outside this instant or so help me."

Neirah tilted her curious pout towards her superior. "You mean Fujishima? But he's one of us?"

From where Misaki sat across from Izumo at the bar, he chuckled lowly to the sound of the barkeep striking his brow with his open palm. "Good one, Tsukiyo," he teased. As she approached with the pup in her arms, he carefully observed the way it seemed to delight in her presence as she stroked its dirty, matted fur. "But are you sure it's okay to bring it in here? I mean, what if it's got fleas or some shit like that?"

"Nonsense!" Neirah countered defensively. "Fujishima found it tangled in some twine. It has cuts on its little paws and everything."

"I have a cut on my paw!" From where he still lingered under Yō's arm, Saburōta thrust out his finger towards the maternal woman. "See?! It might even be infected too!"

"It's a fucking sliver," Misaki growled. "Just burn it out with your flames."

"You're missing the point!"

Suddenly, the dog in Neirah's arms turned to face where Misaki was reaching to pet it and let out a shrill bark that had everyone stirring to attention. It was loud and angry, but overall, not too threatening as it snapped at Misaki's fingers. "Dude, what the hell?!" Misaki snapped back. "I was just tryin' to see if you were okay n' shit!"

"It looks like he doesn't like you," Tatara sang. He watched the dog squirm a bit before it finally forced Neirah to set it down on the floor to trounce around. "Maybe he didn't like it when you yelled at Bandō."

"It's just a fucking dog!" Misaki raged. "What the hell does he know!?"

From where she'd sat on the couch next to Mikoto, Anna quietly slipped from her seat, crouching with her hand outstretched. The canine approached her cautiously. The look in its dark beady eyes didn't seem intimidated by Anna, but the beast at her back was another story entirely. "It's okay," Anna whispered. "You're safe here."

When Mikoto noticed that the dog wasn't paying Anna's patient dedication much mind, he leaned forward in his seat and commanded obedience. "You heard her. Don't be so ungrateful."

The expressions observing the situation dropped as the pup pinched its tail between its legs and sunk into the floorboards in fear. "That seemed a little counterproductive," Neirah cooed.

Despite the meek trembling of the creature, Mikoto served his purpose because the animal didn't dare flee again as Anna approached. She quietly stroked its matted fur, watching cautiously as the tail between the dog's legs tried to wag clumsily beneath its body. "She's afraid of Mikoto."

"Big surprise there," Izumo instigated dryly.

"This child is lost." Anna gently scooped their furry guest up into her arms, walking her over to where Kōsuke was lingering next to Neirah's side. "It would be wrong to keep her here."

"I could have told you that." Izumo watched Kōsuke receive Anna's gesture, but he recognized the caring look on the man's face when their gazes connected. "Don't give me that look," he threatened. "The _last_ thing we need here is another bitch with an attitude problem."

Just as Kōsuke was about to speak up, Misaki slunk around his shoulder, trying to stealthily stroke the animal's soft fur. The entire bar echoed with sounds of the puppy's displeasure as she began to snap at Misaki's fingers again.

"What the fuck is your problem!?" Misaki thundered. "I just wanna fucking pet you."

"He _really_ doesn't like you, Yata-chan," Tatara musically repeated.

"Yeah, you said that!"

"It's a she," Kōsuke rumbled softly. He flinched the moment Neirah reached around him into his arms to peel the frightened stray out of his grasp.

"Does it matter?" she cooed. "If she has nowhere to go, maybe she can stay with Tat-chan and I. Seeing as Onii-chan has a heart of stone." She nuzzled the puppy spiritedly, encouraging a sweet yip from the excited creature's muzzle. She could sympathize with the animal. She was a frightened stray too, once. "At least until she finds her place."

"Totsuka can hardly manage himself much less another living being," Izumo instigated dryly. "He'd probably start off strong, but you know how he is."

"And what about me?!" Neirah commanded sternly. "I said Tat-chan and _I_!"

"Both of you spend more time here than at home," Izumo reasoned. "Don't think I don't know where this is going. Fujishima found it so he can take it home himself."

"But my parents are allergic."

Izumo's expression dimmed. "There's always an excuse with you…"

Tatara smiled brightly and slipped towards Neirah, giving the pup's chin an affectionate rub. "And I guess it's out of the question sending him home with Yata-chan and Fushimi-san."

Misaki knotted up his face as he approached, trying to sneak his fingers against the dog in place of Tatara's. The dog picked up on his deception right away, turning to chomp baby puppy teeth into the top of Misaki's hand. "Ow! That little bastard bit me!"

"Good!" Saburōta snapped intolerantly. "I hope it gets infected too!"

"Fuck, you're petty!"

"And you're bleeding. Score one for Bandō."

Misaki whirled his fiery gaze to meet the sight of Saburōta's instigating. Before anyone could interject, he flew across the bar and crashed into the man mercilessly. "That's it! You're dead!"

Even as her wolf begged for moderation in the confrontation he'd summoned, Neirah was too busy distracting herself with the snuggly beast. "Don't worry," she whispered. "You get used to them after a while. They're not all that bad."

"He needs a bath, for sure," Tatara hummed thoughtfully. "And then we should get him some food. I wonder what we have that we can make up for him during his stay. I should go see!"

From the corner of the bar, Saruhiko watched through a displeased expression, his fist wringing against the table as he watched his fellow clansmen fuss over the tender creature. They teased Kōsuke for being soft, but they were no better, no matter how tough they acted.

He couldn't help but relate to the pup's inauguration. New members were found, they were pitied, and they were welcomed. By association, they were all the same. Dogs. Pitiful beings that weren't strong enough to face fate on their own, so they were taken in by the pity of someone capable of holding the leash, giving them power only to boast it over their heads.

His deep blue gaze swept across the bar, watching Misaki banter with their allies as he staved off his exhaustion. They were no different, once, reject pups that nobody else wanted. Take my hand, tell me your secrets. He watched it happen every day. They were closer with each passing moon, and he hated it. He didn't understand the premise of comradery's illusion. Even as Misaki smiled, he smiled because Mikoto allowed it. Their freedom was the price of the power they received to wield for their king's purpose. If he went to war, so did they. Nothing was their own anymore, just like the pup scrambling against the stainless-steel sink in the bar's kitchen, trying desperately to escape the hiss of spraying water. He pitied the dog because he understood it. He comprehended that suffocating notion of people acting like they knew what was best for you.

With a bitter sneer, Saruhiko turned his wild eyes over his shoulder, scouring the shadows like he'd heard something mocking his suffering. After a cursory examination, he surrendered that it was all in his head, but when he redirected his weighted gaze back towards the bar, he'd nearly yelped in alarm.

Neirah's once pleasant demeanour seemed to fade since the distraction of their newest addition shifted through the rooms. She watched the panic leap to the surface of her flinty companion's face for a fleeting moment before it vanished again to the sound of him impatiently clicking his tongue. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Who said anything about being startled?"

Neirah let a gentle smile tug her lips up to one side. "Nobody, I suppose. Unless there's somebody else here with us."

Saruhiko's breathing hastened almost incomprehensibly as he cut his icy glower her way. She obviously hadn't meant anything by it, but his guilty conscience was staggering. "What do you want, Tsukiyo?"

"I don't know why you ask such redundant questions, Fushimi-san," she teased. "What I want doesn't matter much when it comes to you, does it?"

Guilty thoughts made the weight of her words strike him harder than he expected, causing his heart to knock against his chest until it hurt. "Just go away," he susurrated intolerantly.

"I will," she prompted softly. "I'll be stopping by the Shinjuku building on the way home." Even after announcing that she'd leave, she waited until he tilted his suspicious gaze her way before she continued. "If anyone is looking for me."

The pressure was building again as he met the intensity of her eyes with his own, hating the way he felt obligated to accept her invitation just to prove that he was sharp enough to have caught her meaning. Every time he thought about her, he came to the same conclusion. She was an unnecessary complication, which might have been why he took so much pleasure in watching her leave. Unfortunately, he didn't want to admit that she was capable of exciting him in any way, which was probably why he slowly climbed to his feet moments after she left to chase after her. If she wanted to persist, so would he, and he would prove that he would rather die than welcome her into his life.

_Tsk_.

"Oi! Saruhiko! Where're you off too this late?" Misaki's smile was broad and excited as he approached with water splatters on his shirt, and before Saruhiko could stop him from ruining the comforting moment, Misaki continued. "Kusanagi-san says the dog can stay until Fujishima finds the owner. We could use your help comin' up with names and stuff to call it while it's here."

"Call it Kēji. Then at least it had some warning…"

After perking to try and catch his companion's mumble, Misaki's expression humbled curiously to Saruhiko's swift reproach trailing off. "Kenji? That's kinda a weird name for a girl dog, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he groaned incoherently. At least his daft cohort offered him an opportunity to correct himself without causing a scene. "Call it Hana then."

Misaki threw his hand up into the air with a delighted cheer. "Like a flower? That's a perfect name, Saru! Thanks! I knew you were the best person to ask!"

"Sure…" His expression darkened as he approached the storefront like it was a doorway to escape. '_And why am I suddenly thinking about flowers?_'

Misaki watched Saruhiko slowly saunter towards the door, his expression fading dismally. "Wait, you're still leaving? Here, I'll come with you!"

"No." Saruhiko stopped, adjusting his tone to detour his friend from giving chase when he knew that Misaki had no place where Saruhiko was going. "You stay and help with Hana. I'm just going to be at home playing games." He was only half lying. He would be _somewhere_ playing games.

"Oh, okay," Misaki casually dismissed. "But don't worry! I'll tell everyone it was your idea to call her Hana! Mikoto-san wanted to call her Chūkaryōri. Totsuka wasn't having any of it, though. Especially when Fujishima was washing her in the kitchen sink. And Kusanagi-san-"

"Yata?"

"Hm, what is it?"

"Stop talking."

Misaki stood in the centre of the room, staring after Saruhiko as he departed. In a fit of struggling, he'd lost his hat to Hana. Which seemed to bother him less and less as he considered the way his friend was acting recently. Saruhiko seemed tired, and Misaki knew that he wasn't eating right. He understood that Saruhiko didn't like to talk about things that bothered him, claiming that they were tedious and irrelevant. Still, Misaki wondered how long he was going to respect those boundaries. He supposed his biggest concern was not knowing how long was too long before it was too late. "Okay," he humbly conceded long after his friend had physically departed. "I'll… see you at home."

* * *

_Don't keep him waiting forever._

Foreboding sensations began to stir in her core again as Neirah considered the kind warning uttered behind violet lips earlier that evening. It seemed strange that Maki had mentioned something like that shortly after inquiring about Saruhiko's condition. But she couldn't understand being of any use to him. She supposed that it wasn't impossible that he was waiting for someone to listen, to hear things that he couldn't say. Considering that the very essence of their relationship was reading between the lines, that shouldn't have surprised her. Neirah was still doubtful, though, so all she could do is approach the situation in a way she wished she had from the beginning, just like Nagasaki had inspired.

The wind was growing colder as fall approached, and the breeze was refreshing as she stood on top of the world. The observation deck was technically closed to visitors at that time of night, not that it had ever stopped her before. And from what she sensed at her back in the next instant, it hadn't stopped Saruhiko either. Nothing about him generally intimidated her; in fact, there were times when she found his silent company refreshing. Even as he stood quietly at the mouth of the deck stairs watching her at the building's edge, she felt comfortable. His hands were in his pockets, and hers were ringing the icy railing in front of her. Worlds apart, yet somehow connected.

She'd given him a choice. This is where I'll be, so come find me. And he did. All that was left was to see which of them would break the silence first. It was something she found particularly difficult when the silence was so easy. Change was hard.

"I wish I could help you."

When Neirah spoke over the sound of the light breeze, Saruhiko's expression paled, and his heart started making that fluttering fuss against his chest again. He battled rage as he watched the wind carry her hair around her shoulders. He would never admit it, but he preferred it the way she'd styled it upon her return.

"But it seems all I'm good for is burning things." Neirah turned her gaze over her shoulder just as Saruhiko's brow creased with thought, realizing that maybe she wasn't talking about his disenchantment with their clan. "I should have paid more attention in school. Then maybe I wouldn't be so lost when you and Kusanagi-san start to go off about digital footprints and all that nonsense." Her fleeting gaze dropped, her heart in her throat as she tried to make light of her weaknesses. "I never really used to take that address seriously. Hunter… assassin. I kept telling myself I was better than that, yet here I am." After digging in her cleavage for a moment, she gently pulled out the folded note Maki had passed off to her earlier. "You were right, Fushimi-san. Nothing changed."

After taking the hint of her holding out the paper, he gently stepped forward to claim it before the wind stole the information she was sharing. It was warm, but he tried not to linger on that notion too passionately.

"And I'm not satisfied."

Saruhiko snapped his gaze from the paper to where Neirah frowned at the horizon.

"This life is comfortable, but when I came back ready to spill the secrets of my heart, I expected something to change. Anything. But it didn't." Her voice lowered until Saruhiko had to focus intently just to catch her cadences, and to his surprise, he did. "In a way, it feels like everyone is patting me on the head and reminding me that they told me everything would be okay. Now I'm second-guessing whether or not they're showing me the smiles in their hearts or just the ones on the mask they put on to make me feel better." Her gaze nervously tapered as she considered her inner turmoil. She had always been a little unhinged, but she never thought she was damaged enough that her clan would fear her instability.

"I love this place," she surrendered quietly. "But I can't help feeling like something is wrong. When I was contemplating my trip and feeling lost, Yata was the only one who tried to stop me from leaving. Does that mean… if I never came back, HOMRA would have stayed the same? Am I really… just another flame?"

Her tone lowered as she groaned her displeasure. "But then King-sama led us to war just because some goon hit me. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't care, right?" She sighed softly and laid her head in her hands, watching the stars spot the late-night skyscape. "Still, I understand what you mean now."

Like she hadn't just spilled her heart to him, Saruhiko choked down his welling sentiment and held out the slip of parchment that he'd taken a moment to consider. "What the hell is this?"

"Kusanagi-san said it would mean more to you than him," she reassured. "So, I'm giving it to you instead."

It was hard enough for Saruhiko to focus before she started confusing him with her soppy stories and secret codes. "Yeah? Well, I could have done without the life story that came with it."

If she'd said it once, she'd said it a hundred times. "I can appreciate an honest man," she murmured fondly. "That's probably why I enjoy your company so much, even if you can't stand mine."

_Tsk_. He hoped that the paper in his hand would be legible by the time his palm finished wringing the life out of it. He stuffed the note in his pocket with a bitter growl, staring at his feet as his impatience erupted. "Knock it off with that crap already," he commanded frigidly. "Do you think I'd be standing here if I hated you? Why would I waste my time?" He straightened to lock his eyes on her bewilderment at the building's edge. "You didn't tell me that I was coming here for information. I came here because I wanted to. I'm still here because that's what I want. If I wanted to leave, I'd leave. That's it." Maybe Mikoto could hold power over his head, but not Neirah. Neirah didn't intimidate him in the slightest. She had no control over his actions.

His teeth ground around his sentiment as he diverted his gaze out over the city before them. "Do you have any idea what's even written here?" he scolded. "It's the key to flushing those bastards out and crushing their operation, something that even the Blue Clan hasn't caught wind of yet. I'm gonna destroy it from the inside out because of this. Information that _you_ brought me." He rolled his eyes with a derisive snort. "And yet you have the audacity to stand here wallowing in self-pity claiming that you're absolutely useless. How annoying."

Saruhiko threw his head to one side, refusing to look at her as his thoughts came flooding to the surface. He was tired and unable to filter his fragments. "You say you're just another flame, well, maybe to a king, that's all we are. Or even more, if he's the flame, we might just be embers- insignificant little specs of dust in his eyes." But what did that make them to each other? He understood her seamlessly as he watched the smiles exchange between their friends. He didn't know how they could be that happy all the time, how they could care so much. It only made sense that it was a charade, and a part of him felt attached to the keen woman for picking up on the same notion.

"You're constantly telling Yata that we're friends," he instigated dryly. "I would never consider you one. But here I am." He turned away with a flustered sigh. "So, which one of us is the fool?"

She slowly watched him return down the stairs and leave the way he'd come. When Maki has told her that she was the shadow of a flame, she never thought she might mean that nothing would be different without her. If she asked Tatara, she knew that he would say that meant she was special and defied everything just to be the anomaly, but it was hard to know which story to believe. Neirah was a recovering cynic battling an optimist, and somewhere in between, that was where Saruhiko came in. She would never give up on the day they could finally work together because she knew that if they ever could, nothing would be able to stop them, not even fate.

Neirah smiled mildly, turning to face the horizon after he'd departed. "I guess it's me…"


	35. Knock

**Knock**

* * *

_And just like that, he was gone._

_I suppose that shouldn't have come as any sort of surprise after what he said that night. _

_He left because that's what he wanted, for some reason or another. In a rush of chaos and disorder, the Minato twins crept into our lives, and he slipped out right behind them. It happened so fast that some of us still haven't recovered…_

_And none of us got to say goodbye._

_Maybe that's why I keep that moment close to my heart, the time we spent standing silently in the cold breeze, warm and comfortable with each other's presence. Did he not feel it too, that moment when things seemed right? Or was it just an illusion? Was his contentment with me just another mask?_

_It makes me wonder, did he leave because he finally said what needed to be said?_

_But if that was the case, who else had that level of closure?_

_At least he didn't make him choose and for that,_

_he has my gratitude._

**_November 1st, 2010_**

The steam from the takeout bags in her hands was making her palms sweat beneath the long sleeves of her oversized hoodie as she lingered by his door. Neirah stared at the slab for a moment, the quiet rustle of plastic the only thing noting her stealthy presence. She didn't announce herself nearly as boldly when she wore slipper-style flats on her tiny dancer's feet.

When she tipped her head towards the ceiling panels, the floppy hood of her sweater concealed one eye, but her view still considered climbing in the way she always came. But she didn't want him to feel like nothing had changed, and maybe that was because she knew what it felt like to have your concerns overlooked. Saruhiko was gone, and she presumed that it would affect Misaki quite like it would distress her if Tatara decided to leave her side. Then again, Saruhiko wasn't just gone. He was the newest member of HOMRA's rival clan, SCEPTRE4, a betrayal that Misaki would have a hard time forgiving. That was an unnecessary dash of salt in open wounds.

Despite the way she boasted their vanguard's communication when she last visited Maki's shop, Misaki hadn't seen it coming. She knew that because the days were passing and she barely noticed the halved frontline force out and about around HOMRA. There was a time when he was there as much as she and Tatara were, but not since Saruhiko left. They were all completely blindsided, and nobody was taking it harder than the man who'd just lost his best friend.

Neirah knew that Misaki was heartbroken, even if he said he was okay, and she could understand that the last thing he'd want on his mind would be the pain. But she couldn't ignore his suffering either, because she knew what that felt like too. Maybe their circumstances were slightly different, but the most critical factor in her decision to return to clan life after her trip from Nagasaki might not have been her promise to Tatara, or her love for her king, but the bravery of one honest friend who was daring enough to tell her that he didn't want her to leave. He was the only one who tried to stop her, and just like that, she was noting the similarities of their situations.

It was one thing to give someone space to grieve, but Neirah believed that it was just as important to show someone that they weren't alone. She didn't have any intentions of bringing up their lost comrade; in fact, that was the last thing on her mind. All she wanted was to return the kindness that he showed her the night she almost made the biggest mistake of her life. And all her grumbling tummy wanted was to eat the delicious food she could smell in her takeout containers.

As she continued to watch the door, she weighed her options. She'd always barged into their apartment when she visited if Misaki was there. The only one who ever let her through the front door, well, he was gone. That weighed just as heavily in her heart as anyone else's. She would miss his quick wit, miss his foot rubs, but most importantly, she would miss that sound sense of stability that kept her grounded when her dreams got the best of her. Her biggest regret is that she never got to see him smile from his heart, and a quiet part of her wondered what that might look like in reality. Unfortunately, Misaki might have been the only one who'd ever seen such a miracle, and now it was gone.

But HOMRA was still there, and he needed to know that. She was there. Because HOMRA was her place, it was his place, with or without Saruhiko. And she quietly promised that together, they would burn through the pain.

_Tat. Tat. Tat._

Misaki's posture snapped erect to the sound of his startled gasp as he sat cross-legged in front of a glowing television screen. The pattering of keys froze between his hands to the command of the pause button, and he lingered in the cerulean glow of the home screen, craned like a meerkat as he tried to comprehend the unexpected intrusion.

At first, he wanted to be hopeful. His heart started to race against his chest as his dull eyes began to brighten with grateful stars to the thought that Saruhiko had finally come home. The dark circles under his eyes made the youth look exhausted, but he still tried to analyze the gentle knock that sounded against his door. Saruhiko had returned his key, so if he were polite and as remorseful as the unobtrusive tap sounded, he would have no choice but to knock. There was no way Saruhiko could have known that Misaki hadn't locked the door since his departure. During their time on their own, Misaki had gotten good at bolting doors, mainly to keep the intrusive Neirah out, although, a lot of good that did them. But if Saruhiko ever wanted to come home, he didn't want anything to stand in his way.

_Tat. Tat… Tat._

No, it wasn't Saruhiko, and Misaki's heart sank. He expected a clatter like that to come from Rikio, or maybe even Tatara. His first instinct was to ignore them because he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want their pity. Maybe if Mikoto showed up, smacked him upside the head, and told him to smarten up, he might listen, but that knock didn't belong to his king. It was too kind, too gentle, and albeit reluctantly, he heaved a heavy sigh and returned to his game. He wanted to make sure he was distracted when the inevitable interrogation began.

"It's open." Misaki didn't realize how husky his voice was from not being used until he finally spoke. If it were Tatara, he would need all of his strength to keep from breaking the kind man's teeth for telling him everything would be okay. That was the last thing that he wanted to hear. If it were Rikio, he would eagerly break his teeth. That might truly make him feel a bit better.

"My hands are full…"

Misaki threw his controller against the floor with a noisy rattle, raising his hands to his mouth to stifle the mortified curse that slipped past his lips beneath wild eyes. "Sh- Tsukiyo?!" He whispered his alarm urgently to himself. On the other side of the door, he heard her sway, plastic bags making a fuss just past the threshold. He didn't even bother considering how she knocked if her hands were full, or if she was simply inspiring him to move for the first time in hours. Or maybe it had been days, not that he was keeping track.

"S-shit, okay, hold on." Misaki sauntered to his feet, catching his finger around the sock that had crept over one heel. He tugged the cotton back into place in one fluid movement as he stood, and quickly snagged his hat from the floor next to him. He hadn't checked the mirror in ages, it seemed, but his hair was probably a wiry mess. At least if it were Rikio or Tatara, he wouldn't feel so inclined to look presentable, but of course, the one who had to come for him was their lovely lion. Even if she was a savage, she was still a girl, and for whatever reason, he felt like that warranted effort on his part.

He fumbled over some clutter, clothes, takeout containers, and an empty can that was marked by the brand of soda that Saruhiko liked most, the one Misaki used to get from the little shop just down the road. As soon as he saw that was what tripped him, he swung and kicked the remnants as hard as he could across the room. "Stupid fucking Monkey-!"

Bright blue eyes repeatedly blinked over her curious pout as she listened to war ensue on the other side of the doorway. There was thumping, cursing, something that sounded like claws grinding on a chalkboard, and then finally, a solid bang against the wall between them. She flinched, obviously waiting for Misaki to catch his breath and maintain his calm for when he finally opened the door.

After steadying his racing heart and giving his eyes a firm rub like he could wipe the exhaustion marks from his face, Misaki slowly invited her into his humble abode for the first time. He expected to be meeting the woman eye-to-eye, or as close to it as he liked to admit. The truth was, with those awful high-heels of hers, she was a little taller than him. So, when he had to look down to meet the sparkling curiosity of his guest, he was slightly shocked.

With a bright smile flushing both cheeks with ruby shades, she held up both of her paws to flash her offering. She was wearing the sweater that Rikio had given her almost a year prior, the one that he claimed was too tight for him to wear in the wintertime. It quickly became Neirah's favourite, but when she wore it, she looked like a shapeless spectre. It reminded Misaki of kids who cut two holes in a sheet, dropping it over their heads to pretend they're ghosts. That comparison made him shiver, but he tried not to let it show when he spoke. "W-what's up, Tsukiyo?" Casual, that was his best attempt as he cleared his throat of fatigue. "D-did you need somethin'?"

Without waiting for him to step out of her way, Neirah tittered and floated past him, nearly bowling him over as she invaded his personal space with both takeout bags raised high above their heads. "Katsudon!" she cheered.

Misaki twitched, watching the woman pad lightly across his floor and invite herself to his table. _E-eh?!_ His cheeks began to flood with humiliation as she shuffled through the warzone that had become his apartment, using her baggy sweater sleeve to dust the debris off his table before she began to set two placements.

With a faint groan, Misaki raised his fingers to his nape and gave it a sheepish scratch. It was after she'd bombarded him that he realized just how gross his state of living must have seemed to her. But much to his surprise, and appreciation, she hadn't said anything condemning yet. "Uh, hey… I hate to break it to you, but I'm not that hungry. And you know… Saruhiko's not here to hang out with you." His tone flattened with disdain. "He uh… never came back." He shuddered, his breathing seizing entirely in his lungs when she threw her devastated pucker his way. The folds of her hood still covered one of her eyes, but the other one looked distressed.

"You don't want to eat with me?" She looked down at the settings with hollow reprieve. "I guess I could… go eat alone somewhere…"

Misaki flinched, rushing towards the table to defend his rejection. "W-what about one of the others? I mean, why can't you and Totsuka-san eat together?"

Neirah diverted her gaze sadly. "Tat-chan is busy with some uppity meeting between King-sama and Onii-chan, and I can't be there," she scowled. "And I tried Chitose's, but when I got there, I heard some pretty questionable noises coming through his door."

That wasn't unusual. The ginger vanguard groaned through his meek smile as he tried not to think about that one too much. As bad as he felt for trying to turn her away, Neirah was the last person he wanted to spend time in his apartment with him, especially in its current state. "What about Kamamoto? I'm sure he could eat. That's all that guy ever does."

Neirah raised her hidden paw to her temple and gave it a sheepish scritch. "Ever since Ri-chan moved out, he lives too far away. By the time I got there… the tonkatsu would be soggy…" Her voice began to trail off miserably. "Soggy panko is the worst…"

Misaki was speechless. Since the woman arrived, she hadn't once asked him if he was okay, or if he'd heard from Saruhiko. Considering that he believed she was closer to Saruhiko than she ever was with him, it was a tad unsettling. But something about her quaint offer for a hot meal was refreshing, even if he was still a little skeptical. "I… Well, I guess if you want to eat here, t-that's cool."

By her eager beam, Neirah's spirits immediately seemed to lift as she held her hand out for him to take a seat on the floor across from her. "Yay!" She drew out the takeout chopsticks provided with their meal and snapped them apart with a decisive click. "How exciting! I don't think we've ever had a meal together, just the two of us."

Misaki's heart sank as he tangled his legs beneath him. _That's because Saru was always there, _he thought despondently. He poked at his food, his stomach churning even to consider what she'd placed in front of him. Then, before he could dwell on it, Neirah withdrew one of her knives from somewhere beneath her guise and halved the cuts of meat in front of her. All Misaki could do was cock a brow. He had never seen a more assassin thing to do.

When Neirah sensed his observance, she looked at him quite like she had the first time Rikio scolded her for using her kunai at the table. "Ah… sorry," she murmured. "I know it's poor table manners, but the pieces are so big."

Misaki shrugged and returned to unburying his rice, disturbing the food to make it look like he had attempted to eat something. "Ehn, you do you," he casually reasoned. "That's not even the weirdest thing I've seen outta you."

Interrupting his thoughts again, Neirah leaned across the table and offered him a small Styrofoam carrier with a friendly smile. "Tonkatsu sauce?"

She knew he wasn't eating, but still, she treated him no differently. He supposed something about that was endearing, causing his face to flood with colour as he gratefully received the condiment. "T-thanks…"

The meal started quietly, mainly because it was pretty clear that neither of them knew what to discuss. The pair had never really spent time together alone before because Neirah always seemed partial to Saruhiko's company. Misaki quietly raised his tired eyes to watch her hum pleasure around her crunchy pork bits. It was her favourite dish, breaded pork cutlets. She certainly liked pork, but he figured he should try to come up with something more interesting than pigs as a dinner conversation. He scanned his mind for topics, searching his memory for anything that might distract him from his current situation.

He knew that she liked kombucha, or any hot tea, over coffee, and when she drank coffee, she loaded it with cream. She loved sports and running, most specifically. She got anxious when she couldn't release the energy that often built up until she was feverish. He supposed they weren't overly different, in that sense. She loved milk candies and hated the cold. Strawberry was her favourite flavour outside of matcha, and she always smelled like… cherries.

Misaki choked down the lump in his throat as he dropped his eyes towards his meal, only to comprehend that it looked like he'd managed to eat some while he was thoughtfully scrutinizing his unexpected guest. In his stuffy apartment, her sweet sakura scent stood out, and it was somewhat comforting.

"What are you playing?"

Misaki snapped upright like he'd jostled himself awake after fading into sleep, his attention following her clean fingernail to where she pointed at his television waiting on the pause screen.

"It looks like the sequel to that game you gave Tat-chan and I."

He scanned his memory quickly and then mumbled his concurrence. "Uh, yeah, it is. That's kinda why… we- or… that I got the new system, I guess."

She didn't seem phased by the notes of contempt in his voice. She knew that was why he and Saruhiko had split on the new system, so she didn't think it was necessary to pry. "Wolf-kun was mad when I played against him last winter. He said it's not good for a man's pride when girls are better than them at video games."

"What? That's stupid," Misaki growled through his dull snort. "I think it's hot."

The silence to pass between them as the tension flooded the room caused him to stifle his desperate groans. It was a bad idea from the start. He should never have let Neirah through his door when he knew that it had been way too long since the last time he'd had a proper sleep. He felt like a bumbling fool, which was something after he'd spent so long getting used to her. Years ago, when they'd first met, he never _dreamed_ he would be sitting across the table from her eating takeout.

Without consideration of etiquette, Neirah poked her chopsticks behind her lips and sucked the sauce from their surface. She tried her best to ignore his blunder at face-value. "But that's Wolf-kun for you," she purred. "He can be pretty petty."

With the way Misaki stuffed rice into his cheeks like a chipmunk, you might have thought he was hungry. In reality, he was simply desperate to shut himself up before he made any other ridiculous remarks. Then, when his curiosity piqued, he choked down the food and spoke through the aftermath. "Why d' you call him that, anyway?" He coughed to clear his throat before he asphyxiated on rice. "Wolves are cool. It's like the complete opposite of him."

Neirah shrugged and started to burrow into her near-empty dish. "I think he's cool."

Misaki didn't know why, but something about hearing her say that grated on his stressed nerves. "Y-you do?"

She nodded vaguely. "I called him Wolf-kun because when I first found him, he was all alone, and it took a while for him to come out of his shell. See, he's a pack animal at heart, but something obviously happened to make him distrust people. He's kind of shy, but deep down, he just wants to be included."

Misaki snorted at the mere consideration of Neirah comparing Saburōta to a beast of any species. A mouse, he could see, or perhaps some other skittering rodent-type creature, but not a wolf. For whatever reason, a chameleon with sunglasses stuck out in his mind, and he nearly spat out his food. "Yeah, can't see it," Misaki grumbled through his bitter chewing.

"That's okay. He's not your wolf. He's mine."

Misaki froze, grasping that in his attempt to chew through the subject, he'd almost eaten an entire meal. Suddenly, he wondered if that was what Saruhiko felt like right before he left, an outsider, a lone wolf rejected from the pack. After all of Misaki's efforts to include him, Saruhiko seemed to castoff the very idea of comradery, for some reason or another, and he couldn't understand why. Saruhiko was smart, a hundred times more intelligent than Saburōta, so why was Saburōta still there when Saruhiko was gone?

"I never thanked you for what you did."

When Neirah spoke, Misaki was beginning to comprehend that maybe he was having a hard time focussing because she seemed to catch him off-guard repeatedly. "Wait- me? F-for what?"

Neirah stuffed her disposable chopsticks into the empty container on the table and folded her hands in her lap. "Before I left for Nagasaki, you told me that you didn't want me to leave."

His stomach began to flip, and he quickly diverted his gaze to speak in a mousy tone. "I- I did say that… d-didn't I?" There was no sense trying to deny it, and he just didn't have any fight left at that moment.

"Sometimes, it's hard to understand people," she started quietly. "Even if you speak the same language and say certain words, the meaning is lost if you're not true to them. But sometimes, hearing someone say something and mean it is a nice change." She slowly raised her soft gaze to meet his. "I know that everyone else was worried I wouldn't come back, but you're the only one who said anything to try and stop me. That was nice."

After banishing his container alongside hers in a similar manner, Misaki also stuffed his hands in his lap, diverting his bashful expression as he spoke. "Y-you're welcome, I guess..." Misaki spoke the words, but again, his thoughts slipped from their pleasant meal, causing his fists to clench against his ankles. Suddenly, he felt foolish. When Saruhiko approached him and told him that he was the newest member of SCEPTRE4, he had felt so betrayed that he couldn't think clearly. He couldn't see the hope through his anger. Saruhiko and Neirah shared so many common traits that it made him wonder if it would have made a difference. If he had remained calm and told Saruhiko that he didn't want him to leave, would he have stayed?

Neirah was moments from opening her mouth and asking if Misaki wanted to have a go at the game currently on standby, but Misaki interrupted her intended invitation.

"I don't… get it."

She didn't bring him up once. As painful as it was for her to pretend that she was oblivious to Misaki's suffering, she had managed to surface the bitter memories anyway. In that regard, she felt defeated. She hadn't managed to distract him at all.

"If he wasn't happy, whatever, he coulda just left. If he wanted to be a lone wolf, fine." His teeth began to grind as his heart palpitated with acrimonious rage. "But why'd he have to go and join the blues of all people?! If he didn't want to be with us, what makes them any better?! He didn't have to disrespect Mikoto-san when he went!"

Neirah's once sunny expression clouded with grief as she let her eyes skitter over the mess his apartment had become. It was the most visible sign of his suffering. "I'm sorry. I was hoping we could avoid this." When he climbed to his feet across from her, she quietly followed his rise.

"No!" he raged. "It's not your fault. It's his for walking out on HOMRA! Fushimi betrayed us!" His tone lowered when he noticed it was beginning to crack with emotion. The woman sitting in Saruhiko's spot across from him at the table was hurting too, and he could see it in her eyes. It was always in her eyes. "Both of us…" he murmured uncertainly. "I mean… he hurt you too… didn't he?"

Even though her gaze diverted, a mild grin still curled her lips. "I'm sorry, I tried everything I could think of," she whispered in defeat. "But he wouldn't let me in, and by the time I saw hope, it was too late." She quietly raised her fingers to her hood, grabbing the edges to calmly ease it over her crown until it bunched around her shoulders. "I know you think there was something between Fushimi-san and I, but he would never let that happen. In fact, the last time we spoke, he admitted that he would never even consider me his friend." She laughed lightly to help ease the tension she saw balling Misaki's strained fists. "But that doesn't change how I feel about him."

"How can you say that?" Misaki muttered bleakly. Her quiet suffering infuriated him. He hated watching her fight for someone who didn't deserve her devotion. She hadn't asked for much, a smile, a laugh, a kind word. She wanted to be friends with Saruhiko in the same regard that she was friends with everyone else at HOMRA, and he'd taken her for granted. As Misaki became enraged in her defence, his tone escalated with bitter resentment. He didn't understand how Saruhiko had been so blind to her resolve. "How can you still talk about him like he wasn't a complete ass to you?!"

Neirah nibbled on the inside of her lip behind her faux smile. "Because I know what it feels like to carry unnecessary regret with you everywhere you go," she whispered sadly. "I can't speak for Fushimi-san, because I don't know why he did what he did, but I know that's not the fate I want. That mystery is all a part of his charm, so to hate him for something that makes him who he is… that would be incredibly unfair, wouldn't it?"

His molars clenched as he bit back the need to ask her if she was mentally sound. He heard the way that Saruhiko had spoken to Neirah, and she never resented him for his ill-tempered quips. She didn't deserve that. Someone who cared so selflessly, and stayed by Saruhiko's side for as long as anyone could remember… didn't… deserve that.

When she heard his first delicate cough stifling the reluctant curses that he wanted to release from his aching chest, she subtly rolled her eyes to the sight of his tears quietly rolling over his cheeks, and it spun her heart into knots. That was her failure. She wanted to offer him a distraction, and instead, she ended up reopening- no. His wounds hadn't even attempted to mend. They were still too fresh.

"It's not my fault, right?" Misaki tipped his chin and stared through blurry eyes at his tense fists. "I- I mean… you're almost as smart as he is, and you couldn't stop him either. So, it can't just be 'cause I'm stupid."

Neirah didn't know what to say to comfort him. They all knew that something was wrong, but nobody could stop him. It wasn't unlike the way HOMRA treated Neirah before her trip to Nagasaki, so maybe, in part, they were all to blame. Maybe if one of them had outwardly told him not to go, he might have reconsidered. But that wasn't Misaki's fault. It couldn't be. The miscommunication happening wasn't because of words that couldn't be said. It was because of the words spoken without any real meaning. "Please don't give up on him," she softly diverted. She didn't chase his observation away with eye contact. She just quietly continued. "You didn't give up on me, and I came back."

Because he hadn't used his legs properly in so long, they were weak, so after a moment of letting them shake, he surrendered to their buckle. After they'd collapsed beneath him, he slowly drew his knees to his chest, laying one hand over his eyes to try and conceal the blubbering mess he'd become in Neirah's presence. There he was falling apart while the equally wounded woman kept her eyes dry. His best friend was gone, but he couldn't follow him this time. HOMRA was home, his salvation, and their near-mortal enemies were the bluecoats that Saruhiko was probably adorning at that very moment. He couldn't see it as anything other than a betrayal, no matter how flowery Neirah made the transition sound. Abandonment sank into his aching body and collapsed him onto the floor, and it was what kept him there for days.

But Neirah didn't deserve to suffer alongside him. Whether she admitted it or not, Misaki still believed that the love and admiration in her eyes for his friend was more than what she led anyone to appreciate. Even in their darkest hour, she still spoke of him fondly, and that flooded Misaki with protective energy. Her heart wasn't the toy that Saruhiko had treated it as, and he hated that she'd gone unappreciated. Maybe, together, they had failed Saruhiko, but there was no way for them to know for sure. That filled him with defiant animosity, causing his opinion of his friend to turn sour.

"He's gonna pay," he hissed bitterly through his teeth. "He betrayed Mikoto-san and all of HOMRA…"

_He hurt you._ Misaki was grateful that his face remained hidden because he could feel the burn of fever dusting his cheekbones until he tugged his hat down over his eyes to absorb the painful sentiment. _Hana_. He could smell the flowers on her collar, and that was the first thing that came to mind. Hana. What a pretty name for a bitch. His jaw locked around his unforgiving hiss. "That bastard…"

Suddenly, Misaki's breathing hitched to the sound of his video game unpausing, the typical background melody resuming as Neirah navigated his character through the level. For a moment after he'd tugged his hat away from his eyes, he just stared at the screen, his thoughts derailing clumsily to comprehend how casually she'd dismissed the severity of their conversation a moment prior. "O-oi, w-what are you-?"

"It might have slipped under your radar, but I'm kind of a violent person," she muffled lightly. Misaki was having a hard time determining whether or not she was teasing him, but by the look on her face, he figured that she was probably sincere. "So, seeing as I will be without relief shy of hunting him down and beating him within an inch of his life, I figured I'd button-mash until I feel better."

Misaki immediately scrambled forward, trying to defend his save file from taking a mark because he'd let someone else hijack the controls. "Whoa, wait! You can't button-mash an RPG!"

"Can and will," she corrected firmly. "Ooo, flaming doom-bird. Which button is the attack one?"

Misaki immediately dove across her lap, stole the controller back and flopped onto his shoulder, turning to face the screen as he skillfully saved his character from becoming phoenix chow. "Are you crazy!?"

"Probably."

With a low and sheepish growl, Misaki paused his game so he could adjust by her side in the blankets he'd laid out to keep his legs from falling asleep while he played. Quite evidently, she prepared to hound him until he appreciated her company, and as previously noted, he didn't have any fight left. The result was his tone filling with surrender. "Here, just watch what I do…"

* * *

In the end, Neirah had successfully distracted her friend, and outside of the few raging fits he displayed due to premature defeat in his game, Misaki seemed to be having a good time. Unfortunately, as the hour ticked past three in the morning, Neirah's bobbing head could scarcely stay upright.

Watching him was fascinating. When the games he played absorbed him, he seemed to transfer into the world behind the screen. Neirah supposed that was what serious gaming was all about, but it also meant that it was easy for him to lose track of time. Without something to keep her just as occupied, the yawns started to creep through her teeth.

When she moaned lightly and stumbled to her feet, he didn't seem to comprehend that she was wandering around his apartment. Her maternal instinct started to hum as she searched for a way to keep herself busy, so as she swayed from side to side, she picked up the potential tripping hazards strewn about the floor and delivered them appropriately to the trash.

As she tied off the bag and prepared to drag it to the door, her tired eyes came to rest on his skateboard propped up against the frame. It was where it stayed when it wasn't in his hands or beneath his feet, and for whatever reason, it looked rather inviting that morning.

Misaki paused his game, stricken with a bad case of déjà vu when he heard a gentle pattering against the floor towards the kitchen. His brow creased as he quickly checked his side, remembering that he wasn't alone in the apartment. Then, when he realized that Neirah wasn't where he left her, he perked alertly. "Tsukiyo? Where did you go?"

A hollow clicking sounded and then came the familiar noise of nylon wheels slowly grinding against the floor. When Misaki whirled to face the sight, Neirah was sitting on her knees against his skateboard, her shaky hands trying to steady her wobbly posture on all fours as she slowly scooted across the kitchen. He watched in disbelief as she approached the wall in a straight line, and then finally, she gently crashed the nose into it. When she collided, she flopped tediously to one side against her shoulder, her concealed fists still between her knees as she thumped lifelessly against the floor.

He wasn't sure what he'd just witnessed, but for a long time, he contemplated his approach to the situation before raising his voice. "A-ah… Are you… okay?" He snapped his gaping teeth together when she lazily raised her thumb to assure him that she was well.

Misaki wasn't so sure. The only time he had ever seen her act so goofy was when she caught fever last winter. Because he was concerned, he slowly climbed to his feet and approached the sight curled up on the kitchen floor. "Y-you sure you're okay?"

Her baggy hood concealed her face as she gently nodded her head against the floor. "Sorry. I was bored."

"U-uh, that's… that's okay, but…"

"I'm not very good at rattleboarding."

Misaki's tone grew more severe as she misaddressed his pastime for the umpteenth time. "First of all, it's a skateboard."

"Rattleboard."

He seemed to contract a sudden burst of energy to her sleepy defiance. "Whatever, fine," he snapped. "Still, how can you say that when you've never even tried? You've got super good balance and shit, so I don't see why you couldn't be good at it." He lowered his tone analytically. "Maybe take those stupid boots off when you do it, though. You'd probably break your neck if you tried it wearing those."

With a flicker of intrigue in her eyes, she slowly tilted her head until she could look up at his determination. "You think I could…?"

Misaki growled as he reached out to her to invite her back to her feet. "For starters, only your feet touch the board."

It was pushing sunrise, and Neirah's legs were still rubbery beneath her as she tried to stay upright on the skateboard. Neirah didn't expect it to tilt so freely once she'd stood on it, and she developed an appreciation for Misaki's talent as she flopped about like a fish struggling to escape a fishing line. "Gonna fall," she boasted through a nervous smile.

"You're not gonna fall," Misaki firmly corrected as he held her hands in his. "I'm holding you up."

When he started to drag her across the floor, she giggled to try and hide her overall embarrassment. "Nope, I'm definitely going to fall."

"You're not gonna fall," he reiterated confidently. "I won't let you."

Despite the way her cheeks ignited, Neirah's laughter was giddy between squeals as she fought to keep her tired mind focused on his instruction, which was clumsy at best. He wasn't an excellent teacher, but he was patient with a woman who wasn't taking his guidance seriously. It was somewhat refreshing for her to consider that the typically explosive personality he usually displayed wasn't without its soft spots.

"You're leaning too far forward. Lean back a bit."

"If I lean back, I'll fall," she affirmed.

"Then I guess it's a good thing you-" He stifled his sudden remark, consciously scolding himself for being unable to filter his instigation. "Ah, never mind."

"What? A good thing that my big butt's so well padded?"

His face combusted. "That wasn't what I was gonna say!" he fibbed.

_Eee!_ With a delighted cheer, Neirah shrieked and crushed his fingers beneath hers as she fumbled backwards. "I almost fell that time!"

Misaki narrowly muffled his amused snigger as he tightened his hold on her hands. "Wow, it's like you're _trying_ to be bad. Here, watch me do it."

Neirah popped off the board and watched Misaki glide effortlessly across the floor, lean back until the nose was almost vertical, spin, and then return to her. He made the process look seamless.

"See, it's not that hard! Now you try."

Suddenly, Neirah couldn't contain the wave of laughter to escape her lips. "_That's_ how you're going to teach me?!"

He looked almost insulted as he kicked the board up and pinched it beneath his arm. "Uh, yeah? Why?"

"Okayokayokay," she prattled. "Here. We'll do it your way, then." She bravely took the article, laid it carefully on the floor with both hands and stood in its centre as stiff as a board. "Now, push me."

"What!? I'm not gonna push you. You gotta push yourself with your foot!" He mimicked the action less his skateboard. "Like your swimming."

"_How_ is this like swimming?!"

"Okay, fine! Just try to balance, alright?" Misaki stepped up behind her, laid his fingers against her lower back and peeked over her shoulder. "Ready?"

She nodded firmly. _Hai!_

After giving her a gentle nudge, she slowly started to roll, and surprisingly, she stayed upright. Misaki tried not to act too surprised that they finally had something to show after two hours of dedication. "Whoa! Hey, Tsukiyo, you're doing it!"

She held out both hands to either side of her, trying to overcompensate for the warble of the trucks. "I am! I'm doing it!"

Misaki watched her approach the wall with a bright smile on his face. "Now, kick it up and turn." He swished his forearm through the air like he was mimicking the motion he expected her to complete.

When Neirah shifted her weight even slightly to try and observe his notes, it left her off-balance, and she didn't have time to correct before she thumped into the wall and toppled from her perch.

Misaki rushed forward with a look of panic on his face. "Hah!? Are you okay?!"

But Neirah couldn't stop laughing as she rolled against the floor, her overjoyed howls filling the room.

When he finally made it to her side, he cocked a brow, watching her roll around like a feline introduced to catnip. He couldn't even believe that she was the same woman he'd met years prior. "Wow, and you used to kill people for a living," he mocked dryly.

Her sights suddenly sharpened as she locked her focussed leer on him. "Speaking of which, if you tell anyone about this, you'll be next."

Even though she'd uttered the threat, he couldn't help feeling grateful for her clumsy distraction. It reminded him that his days with HOMRA filled with experiences similar to the one unfolding in his home. Saruhiko hadn't liked to get involved with group activities, but it hadn't stopped Misaki from making fond memories with the friends he'd made. His heart was in pieces, but he wasn't the only one, and if Neirah could laugh through the heartache, then maybe so could he. Mulling over the good times and wallowing in the home no longer belonging to both of them wasn't the answer.

Life and laughs waited for him on the other side of his door, and if Saruhiko wasn't there for them, that was his own damn fault. He didn't want to miss the laughter that made Neirah's bright eyes sparkle, the memories that Tatara captured for rainy days. In his tired mind, the rain was clearing, the sunny smile at his feet ushering the dawn of a new day. Accepting that, he filled his heart with hate to stop the pain and promised that anyone who would dare to harm the smiles in their hearts would pay. They were his to protect. He was HOMRA's Yatagarasu, and since Saruhiko's defect, the front line was his alone.

Misaki finally addressed Neirah in a low and tender tone that marked the gravity of his sentiment. "Hey, Tsukiyo?"

She flopped over to his sober command in anticipation of his gratitude._ Hm?_

"You're right. You really do suck at this."


	36. Kotoba

**Kotoba**

* * *

_**November 17th, 2010**_

Steady boot steps hammered against the asphalt as fast as they could, and laboured breaths hissed through gritted teeth in an attempt to keep up with their host. "The Lieutenant is going to beat me," a smooth voice clamoured. After nearly bumping into civilians filtering through the infrastructure, a clumsy public servant rushed towards good intentions. "Sorry about that!" His panting intensified to the sound of gear clamouring and soft eyes raised to the humbling view of crimson splitting the sky. _H-haah…!?_ An exhilarated gasp escaped gaping lips as wild eyes sparkled, the force of the display nearly toppling his pursuit. "T-that light!"

It was the first time he'd seen it. Flames spread like mighty wings in the night sky high above Shizume City, coiling like snakes around a demonic-looking crimson sword. "That must be… the Third King, Suoh Mikoto's Sword of Damocles." His awestruck wheeze intensified. "Whoa! It's huge!" A cursory scan raised to where the sword floated nearby a series of tall office buildings a few blocks from where anxious feet thundered, and then, a nervous cry startled rushed breaths from the stalling man's chest. "No way! I'll never make it there in time!" With a desperate whine, a decorated scabbard rattled beneath unsteady fingertips as boots began to thump against the street with due haste. "Wait for me, guys!"

Anxious cries went unnoticed from the rooftop high above the city's metropolis as the wind ripped through the wild mane of the third and red king. The luminous amber signal illuminating the helicopter pad beneath his feet cast a foreboding glow over the lines of his face as his smirk broadened around his cigarette. Then, from all corners of the building railing, flashing red beacons egged on his mounting anger. At the centre, Mikoto rumbled his command towards blue interference beneath the ominous glow of his mighty sanctum. "I'm not gonna ask again."

"I tire of repeating myself as well, Third King, Suoh Mikoto." Seri hollered her rebuke from where she commanded SCEPTRE4's recently reinforced Special Forces Division in her king's absence. "By the authority of-"

"Blah, blah, _blaaah_." From the epicentre of the seductive growl serenading the tense assembly, Neirah flopped her bright tongue past her smiling lips to mock Seri's command. "Pretty girls are so _boring_." The wind tore through the helicopter landing pad and whisked her thick locks around her shoulders as she teased her greatest rival into a frenzy. "_Seri-chan~_" she sniggered giddily.

Through gritted molars, Seri murmured her impatient remark with great restraint. "You fiend… Who let you off your leash?"

Neirah retracted her tongue behind her teeth so she could flash them in a sadistic grin. "Are you sure you brought enough boys to handle me?"

The sardonic coo ground on Seri's nerves and made her resent the casual bar owner lingering in front of the yapping lioness. She knew that Neirah had picked up the habit of referring to her in an overly familiar way from Izumo. "Don't flatter yourself." Seri snorted her retort under her breath as every muscle in her body stood prepared to draw her sword and cut the smug look right out of the wild beauty's face.

"Neirah," Izumo carefully sang in caution. "Remind me to give you a lesson in diplomacy at a later date."

A curt snort huffed a humid cloud in front of Neirah's nostrils from within her boiling body as her smile faded to boredom. "Don't be ridiculous, Onii-san. My talents are in diplomacy that you can feel." She leaned her ear towards her shoulder as she rolled her instigating glower to face where Seri stiffened. "Isn't that right…? Seri-chan..."

Her giggle was mischievous as she watched Seri's cheeks flush to the recollection of their lips colliding. Through a morphing tapered leer focussed entirely on their resistance, Neirah scowled at the woman opposing her with an intense warning in her tone. "Besides, how do you expect me to keep the peace when their sense of symmetry makes me irrationally violent?" They were like bowling pins, set so neatly for her to strike.

"You're always irrationally violent," Izumo groaned.

"Maybe I am," she purred in lighter spirits. "But when the adrenaline is there, I have to use it. Otherwise, I'll burn up and carry everyone around me into the ashes."

"Tsukiyo's right," Misaki snarled. The entire time they stared down their opposition, he never took his eyes from Saruhiko's. Seeing red was one thing, but nothing boiled his blood more than the shade of blue complimenting the sparkle in his ex-friend's lethal glower. "I say we waste 'em…"

"Fine by me," Saruhiko droned. He moved to shift his weight forward with an arrogant chortle, but before he could lunge, Seri's arm was stretching in front of him to interrupt his advance. It reminded him that he didn't operate like he used to. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but they were deeply seeded habits that were hard to break.

"Fushimi-san, stand down," Seri thundered in command. "In the absence of our king, I will decide whether or not we advance."

_Heh._ A gruff snort denoted Mikoto's amusement with her assumption. When he made his move, she would have no choice but to defend, unless she was satisfied with dying. He knew that. Saruhiko knew that.

Although reluctant, Saruhiko reined in his temper and stayed his hand. If Seri were smart, she wouldn't provoke the beast before her, but her sense of duty was strong. If she wanted to tackle the threat of Suoh Mikoto on her own, she could be his guest. All he cared about was HOMRA's front line. And should they clash, he had no intention of going any further than that. For that reason, he slowly slipped his hand away from the hilt of his sword. "Yes ma'am."

_Hah?!_ Misaki clenched his fist with a wicked beam. "What are you, her loyal dog? _Yes ma'am_," he mocked. The grating sound of Misaki's friend's tittering away at Saruhiko's expense immediately knotted the hostile deserter's face. "What'd she take your balls from you when you joined the blues or somethin'?"

A dim growl rattled in Saruhiko's chest as a deadly intensity flashed in his eyes. It infuriated him that they dared to ridicule him just because he held himself to a higher standard of service than their mob mentality. "You're one. to. talk," he rumbled intolerantly. "How's _Hana _doing? I see you still have your hat." He emphasized the enunciation of the 't' to make sure Misaki realized he was spitting the words out with the utmost contempt.

Misaki's good humour immediately faded and replaced with wrath. He could see the free fluttering of cherry-scented tresses dancing along with the wild winds in the corner of his eyes, which he peeked only momentarily to fuel his ire. There was a particular abundance of gold in his eyes that night when he snapped his narrowing attention back on his snarky target, a fierce wringing in his wrist as he choked his pulse for control. "Fucking Monkey…" It nudged him even closer to the edge when Saruhiko sniggered lowly to the sound of his displeasure. At least Saruhiko was honest when he told Neirah that he was a sadist because he was quite evidently enjoying Misaki's suffering. "You better hope blondie there is smarter than to piss of Mikoto-san in red territory because if we go to war, I'm comin' straight for you!"

"Don't worry," Neirah mumbled her words indifferently through her distraction as she picked at her freshly polished fingernails. Like she could sense when Misaki tipped his curious hum her way, she held out her splayed fingers to her observation and continued. "She has more boobs than brains."

Seri's utterly affronted expression jerked towards the sight of Neirah's casual instigation. "_Excuse_ me?!" The part that frustrated Seri the most was that she wasn't entirely sure if Neirah's bust was even a full cup size beneath her own. "Barbaric hoodlum!"

_Mm._ Neirah cut her flirtatious leer from beneath thick lashes. "I love it when you talk dirty."

Before things could escalate any further, Mikoto turned his nose towards the sky to peek the sight of a helicopter approaching. If it didn't look so familiar, he might have ordered their battle to take them somewhere other than the machines resting place. But he'd recognized it as belonging to the government brand dedicated to supporting his cobalt counterpart. As such, he tipped over his shoulder to watch the contraption circle with an entertained scoff. "It's about time."

_Ehn?_ Mikoto's low rumble caused an inquisitive grunt to surface in Misaki's throat before he threw his incredulous gaze towards the sight of the Blue King inbound from the heavens.

"Lovely," Neirah muffled sarcastically through nibbling on her cuticle. "Just what we needed. More blue."

Seri's eyes narrowed to scrutinize the brunette's rolling azure gaze when Reisi suddenly struck the rooftop between her and Saruhiko in a low crouch. A startled gasp escaped her to the rapid acceleration of her heartbeat when she comprehended that her king had finally arrived. "Captain. You're here."

"Unbelievable," Masaomi jeered. "He just dropped from the sky. D' you see that?"

"Well, now that's what I call making a grand entrance," Izumo proclaimed over the sound of Misaki's impatient hiss.

Heavily sighing the smoke from between his lips, Mikoto chewed on the end of his cigarette before speaking. "What took you so long?" he rumbled through his teeth. After raising his arms out to either side of him, he tipped his head back to glare down his nose at his guest. "I sent out an invitation and everything."

As he straightened, Reisi adjusted his glasses on his face and sized up Mikoto's so-called summons. It came in the form of a monstrous armament haunting the skies over the Tokyo prefecture with its hideous edges. In his opinion, the night looked far more balanced when he'd activated his sanctum and matched Mikoto's threat with a promise. It was a promise that SCEPTRE4 wouldn't tolerate red lawlessness. As such, the elegant materialization of the classy cerulean blade took its place above Reisi's head as he spoke. "Third King, Suoh Mikoto," he regally announced. "Your actions are as wild and chaotic as they always are."

Mikoto relaxed and fed his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans to support his lazy posture. "Fourth King, Munakata Reisi," he playfully scorned. "Your face looks as awful and annoying as it always does."

Neirah gave her heel an anxious stomp to release some of the kinetic energy burning in her muscles. A playful rumbling joined her need to advance, but when she felt the pressure of fingers snagging her by her collar to keep her steady, she turned a deceitfully charming pout over her shoulder to beg Saburōta permission to strike.

With a devious chuckle, he offered her a reassuring thumbs up with the back of his wrist pressed against the beak of his cap, which kind of reversed the gesture. "Who woulda thought that one day I'd be the one draggin' _you_ around by your collar?"

"Wolf-kun is becoming full of himself..."

"And he's about to lose an arm," Yō muffled from behind his cigarette. He watched Saburōta consider the threat for a moment, obviously contemplating its legitimacy. Then, the hooded boy returned his gaze to Neirah's just in time to watch as she snapped her teeth together with an alluring, predatory look in her eyes. Yō snorted when the rosy colour of Saburōta's cheeks barely peeked from beneath his glasses, and he slowly retracted his paw, to which Yō drawled his amused encouragement. "Smart move."

On the side of the Blue Clan, Saruhiko seemed just as eager to rile up his old circle, or Misaki, most specifically. Nothing was more exciting than the look of fire in his betrayed friend's eyes as he burned with bitter fury. Saruhiko hoped that Misaki forced all of his past clanmates to hear his name every day when Misaki ranted about his treachery. For every time Saruhiko had to listen to Misaki ramble about every one of them, he hoped they had to hear of the solo vanguard's resentment.

The mere consideration caused his teeth to grind around his sadistic grin as he anxiously filled his fingers with one of his sleek throwing knives. He worked the blade skillfully between his fingers, scanning for Neirah's distraction at the same time before he launched the ebony dart. The last thing he needed was her complicating things between them for the umpteenth time. "Why don't we have some fun? _Misaki_!"

The released dart sailed through the air before Neirah could interfere, but Misaki didn't seem as threatened as he used to be when stray knives lobbed his way. With minimal effort, he spun his kick into the trajectory to slow the projectile. When it bounced into the air, he straightened, folding his arm behind his tailbone to catch it with a dull look of impatience on his face even as Tatara cheered for his triumph.

After straightening to lock his eyes on Saruhiko's, he flipped the blade between his fingers before catching it by the handle. "Don't look so smug, asshole," he growled. He buried one brow into the crook of his nose as the other cocked. "D' you seriously think that after all the time I spent dodging Tsukiyo's knives, yours were gonna be any different?"

Saruhiko let out an eager chortle, preparing to bark back at his old roommate when Neirah interrupted his train of thought. Like an elegant dancer, she slipped alongside the indifferent ginger. Misaki's eyes remained fixed on Saruhiko even as she stole the dart he slackened in offering and spun until she launched the offending article towards its host with a delighted cheer. "From HOMRA with love," she hummed. She'd always preferred his sleek projectiles over her clunky kunai. They were so deathly accurate. "Return to sender!"

Even as his wild gaze focussed on the raucous sight of her bratty attitude mocking his efforts, Saruhiko couldn't keep his smile from broadening. He retracted a step to lengthen his arm behind him, catching the dart by its razor-sharp tip before flipping the edge through his fingers and returning it to its place with the remainder of his cache. "What's this, Misaki?" he sang in an attempt to honey his insult. "You're going to rely on your little _girlfriend_ to fight your battles for you?"

"_Battles_?" Neirah's voice filled with sultry malice as her flames flickered over her taut fingertips. She threw her head over her shoulder, and her jaws parted for her hot breath as she returned his passionate resentment in full. "Fushimi-san, everything up until now has been _foreplay_."

Raising his clenched fist to his mouth, Reisi cleared his throat to interrupt their bickering. "Achem. I think that's enough aimless chattering, for now. Wouldn't you agree, Fushimi-san?" he calmly intercepted. "Red Lion?"

_Tsk._ Saruhiko tossed his head to the side, hating how badly his skin itched from the thought of Neirah clawing around beneath it. "That depends," he rumbled coldly.

"If the Red King can't keep me under his finger, what on earth makes you think the blue one will stand a chance?" Neirah sneered.

"I must ask you to leave here immediately, Red King," Reisi commanded authoritatively over the banter. "This matter comes under the jurisdiction of SCEPTRE4."

"Not my problem," Mikoto rumbled evenly.

As the only diplomatic force left among their edgy assembly, Izumo reached behind his head and attempted to steady the mess that was becoming of his hair as the altitude continued to tousle it. "This is about those Strains you arrested a moment ago," he reasoned soundly. "They came into our territory and pulled some stunts not too long ago. We have a few questions that we wanna ask them, so could you do us a favour and hand them over?"

Unsuccessfully swayed, even by the charm of her favourite bartender's drawl, Seri locked her eyes on their resistance and reached out to her command for the final word. "Captain?"

Reisi remained undaunted by their looming threat. "You know we're not able to comply with such a request," he confidently rejected. "As always, you people are nothing but trouble."

"Well, so much for reason…" Izumo surrendered with a heavy sigh. "Mikoto?"

Izumo knew what his king was going to say long before he asked the question, but Mikoto appreciated the sentiment even as he stubbed his smoke out beneath the toe of his shoe. "Burn them," he murmured through an arrogant smile.

"No blood! No bone! No ash!" The rally call thundered on top of the building and promised that mayhem was about to follow.

Although his sigh seemed arduous, Reisi wasn't surprised that the encounter had escalated beyond what dialogue could reconcile. When the Red King was involved, it seemed like communicating by words, no matter how well structured, was an empty gesture. As such, he touched his glasses, tilting them on the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes and meditated on the situation at hand. "We will advance with our swords in our hands. We will triumph, for our cause is pure."

Upon whirling to command their unit, Seri threw her arm out and addressed the men at their back. "Men! Draw your swords!"

As passionately as he defied fitting into HOMRA, Saruhiko couldn't help but delight in the command to follow. A menacing chuckle caught in his throat as his colleagues sounded off in sequence. They weren't perfect, but watching Neirah's teeth clench with distaste to their orderly choir as he drew his sword made it that much sweeter when he proclaimed his preparation.

After watching Reisi draw his sword, honing it on his red target, Mikoto's upper lip quirked with narrowly concealed wrath. It would be irresponsible to let it spill over with a young girl present, so he kept his burning gaze locked on the Blue King as he commanded Anna to evacuate the area. "Totsuka?"

Tatara didn't need the full command. He knew what his responsibility was. For that reason, a fond whirr filled his gentle tone as he addressed the implied order. "You got it!" he hailed. He laid his palm between Anna's shoulders with a tender smile. "Come on. Let's go, Anna-chan."

The young Strain didn't seem interested in abandoning her king, and she softly fussed after being forced from his side. "Mikoto." There was a gentle urgency in her tone, but she didn't resist outside of calling to him.

"He'll be fine." Tatara waited for Anna's bright ruby gaze to fall on him from under silver bangs before his smile broadened beneath his playful wink. "It'll all work out, somehow!"

Neirah's sparkling gaze came to life when she watched her typically lethargic king launch from her side, crossing the rooftop to chase the Blue King right over the edge of the building. When she moved to rush after the spectacle, she was quickly interrupted by the resentful emerald gaze of a bluecoat scorned. She narrowly jolted her nose out of the blade's path when it nearly sliced the tip. When the pulse of aquamarine aura swelled from the sabre, she exhaled a feminine grunt and walked over her hands a couple of times until she had escaped the destructive wave.

When she landed squarely on the gate fencing off the rooftop, she spread her feet in a wide stance to keep her toes stable on the smooth railing. After folding her arms across her torso beneath her bouncing breasts, she sized up her target with a sinister beam. From afar, Andy whisked his sword through the air as his free hand shook a tense fist by his smile.

"Running away?" he commanded hotly. "That's not a very lion-ly thing to do."

Neirah cocked a brow at him playfully as the building began to quake, but she didn't let it jostle her off her toes. As sure as she was that lion-ly wasn't a word, she thought that his passionate defiance was utterly adorable. "Is that what you think I'm doing?" she cooed. "Are you still sore about me taking your toys without permission?"

Andy braced his stance, steadying his blade with a menacing grin. "I already told you. My Excalibur isn't a toy!" He powered off the concrete with his sword gripped in both hands while she mocked him from her perch. "But if you want a demonstration, standby, 'cause here it comes!"

"Mmn, temper, temper," she sassed. Just before he could swing his blade, she raised her index finger to her lower eyelid, pulling it down as she poked out her tongue and let her feet slide from the handrail.

The youth had to catch himself just shy of the railing when she vanished over the edge, her arms out by her sides as she sailed backwards like she was anticipating the ocean tide to break her fall. She watched him grow smaller behind the fence as she let the cold rush of passing air fill her lungs, and once her body warmed it, she was ready to burn. "Let's play."

On the rooftop, Izumo cocked a brow at the sight of Andy hissing his bitter hatred towards the fiery spirit he'd lost track of, and soon, the energetic bluecoat was chasing her over the side. "I guess this is where we scatter, huh?" Izumo casually drawled his words, tipping his apologetic gaze towards where Seri looked as toxic as she ever did in blue. A weary sigh filled his chest as he pulled out his cigarettes and picked one from the pack, casually lighting it as the chaos unfolded. "That's a pretty scary face you're makin' over there, Seri-chan," he teased upon snapping his lighter shut. He took his light between his fingers, lowering the burning stick to exhale the smoke he'd taken in to calm his nerves. When he returned it, he curled his lips into a charming smile. "You have so many other desirable expressions to choose from, so why this one?"

As he fled the rush of royal-blue waves, the heavy patter of Izumo's shoes was hammering against the roof as Seri's clacking heels gave chase. Moments after the area had cleared, his palm was on the sky-high railing to help him vault over the gate lining the edifice. "What? Was it something I said?"

Seri didn't vault, she leapt cleanly into the sky and somersaulted into the strike she slammed into the air between them. "Kusanagi Izumo-san, you're under arrest!"

A thin crimson serpent coiled at his fingertips as he scattered the brick of the building at his back to create a deceptive smokescreen between them as they fell. "Well, hell, I kinda like the sounds of that." He was mildly apologetic when he considered the traffic beneath them, but these were matters out of his control. If Mikoto said burn, they burned, and they would do so until they got their way.

Seri landed on the street below to the sound of car horns blaring to ward off her sudden intrusion. She ignored them, too riled to be concerned over such trivial matters as she scanned the hazy area. As far as she was concerned, a smokescreen was the least of their worries when hooligans like HOMRA were on the move. Then, suddenly she felt a warm touch on her shapely hip, lining her back as a flirtatious whisper touched her ear.

"Over here, Seri-chan."

Seri's face ignited, and she felt the lag in her attack as she desperately struggled to settle her heart rate. By the time she whirled, that warmth had vanished entirely, and so had he. It caused her to pant ragged vehemence from the sidewalk that he'd encouraged her onto in place of the bustling intersection. "S-show yourself!"

From where he stood at the corner of the walkway with one hand in his jacket pocket, Izumo smiled calmly and waved at the livid lady. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

She steadied her grip on her weapon, hoping to draw some assurance from the familiarity. "If you have no intentions of resisting, then come quietly," she thundered. "Maybe then I won't have to use force."

"Our little lion sure does get under your skin, doesn't she, Seri?" Izumo offered her a playful wink as he raised his extended index finger towards her stable guard, grinding his thumb into the straight line he made for her body as his other hand flicked the top from his lighter with a musical ring. "But as sweet as that sounds, I've got a job to do. So how about we talk about it later?"

Seri's eyes widened as he snapped his wrist back, commanding the swelling sparks from his lighter to race down the sidewalk towards her perfect form.

"Bang."

Neirah's laughter escalated as she bounded through the streets with blue waves of power racing past her conceited expression at Andy's command. "My, you have a lot of energy," she sang. Her eyes flashed with flame as she caught her breath and folded herself backwards over his clumsy parry. Her ivory boots noisily clattered when she wanted them too, and they sputtered bursts of flames that couldn't help ventilate from her body.

In the next instant, her fingers supported her legs above her head as she whirled her fanned feet in a broad circle, fire spiralling around her dynamic handstand. When she popped back onto her toes, she straightened to a flare like gasoline igniting on a calm water's surface. One hand stroked her tangled locks from her face as the other raised and commanded the resulting blaze towards her opponent. "I'm going to enjoy burning you out."

Andy didn't seem intimidated as he chopped his blade through the air like the flag a matador might wave. He sliced through her sudden burst, their aura's colliding in violet hues as her heat combined with his resistance drew sweat to his brow. "You're pretty quick yourself," he praised through a heaving grin. "But you don't scare me. Lions are just big cats, right?" He dropped his blade to his side and darted towards her casual posturing. "But to me, you look more like a kitten!"

Something about being undermined even in a way that sounded like a compliment boiled her blood. "You poor boy," she whispered between gritted teeth. "I'm afraid you're about to wish you never said that."

The flames reflected in the lustrous surface of Andy's widening gaze as Neirah drew the chain from her belt, unfurling the burning links until the weaving pattern of her weapon resembled a Chinese dragon. He immediately locked both hands on his hilt to reinforce his stance, waiting for the serpent to rear its ugly head, but he'd lost track of her within the coiling tempest. Then, as he'd anticipated, the fangs flashed when she pitched her first kunai straight from her shoulder toward his guard, its rough surface reflecting the streetlights before it bit.

He was quick to beat it away and charge headfirst toward the inferno, but it wasn't long after he struck the first away that she was snapping her toes against the chain and firing the second. After brushing off the next assault, he caught the sight of glowing violet eyes scorching with sadistic pleasure, and she turned her back on him for only a moment before retracting her weapon around his ankles.

He wasn't expecting her to use the slack of her weapon to bludgeon his blade, but he sharply defended in a bust of reassuring blue, shielding one eye as white-hot embers scattered from the collision. He gasped through locked molars when she winked at him, flopping slack chain over his blade to trap it between scalding links. Once she had the sword hostage, she heaved on his guard with a delighted roar, jerking him to the side.

With her fierce determination, Andy lost his balance against her unexpected strength, but he'd kept a hold on his sword when he toppled. He rolled to the side, sinking his boots into the asphalt to steady his slide before making eye-contact with the mighty beast again. Most people probably should have been as fearful as Neirah suggested, but for Andy, it was the opposite. He was exhilarated. "Wow. You're actually pretty tough, aren't you? I guess if anyone managed to take my sword from me, I'm glad it was you."

A gentle flush dusted Neirah's cheeks as she stood proudly and rolled a small section of her golden chain to fan her flame. "You flatter me, sir."

"_Sir_?" he jeered upon straightening to dust off his front. "I kinda like the sounds of that."

"Keep up, and you might hear it again."

Andy faltered, reminding himself of his purpose as he watched her bolt down the emptying street. "Oi, wait up!"

"I'll handle this one!" After dodging Saburōta's volleyed flames, Yūjirō charged his blade with a bright azure glow and sliced through the subsequent offence with focussed dedication.

It had been a while since Saburōta was able to stand against an enemy without his chastising clanmates picking apart his inadequacies. Maybe it was for that reason that he was so eager to cut loose against the man who had considered him enough of a threat to take responsibility for his interference. Either way, he was feeling pretty confident. "Man, this really pumps me up!" he yipped energetically. He rolled his right tonfa between his fingers before crossing his body with force, causing Yūjirō to cut through one last flash before their weapons collided.

When Yūjirō's blade knocked against Saburōta's protected forearm, Saburōta rotated, showing his back to the enemy in an attempt to crack Yūjirō in the ribs with his second offence. Before he could lay a hit, Yūjirō was swiftly pressuring his close-ranged enemy backwards with a defiant grunt, powering upwards to tumble through the air over his target's head. "Nice try. But sneak attacks won't work on a trained swordsman," he rumbled calmly.

An impatient growl rolled in Saburōta's throat as he ignited both of his weapons and charged back into battle. "Whose bein' sneaky?" he snapped. "I'm comin' at you straight down the middle!"

Yūjirō's tranquil demeanour didn't break as he beat back each attack Saburōta dealt with calculated precision. "You won't break through my defences with those clumsy attacks."

"I'll break what I wanna break!"

Both men staggered when a brilliant burst of flame combusted between their struggle before a glowing cord jerked out of their midst to a passionate holler. "It looks like you're making trouble for my wolf, and that won't do!"

Yūjirō barely had time to be surprised when Neirah's leg was rounding her head to crash into the blunted edge of his sword, throwing it in the opposite direction of Saburōta. "What?! Where did you come from?!" He ducked to the side and lunged out of her striking range when her dainty balled fist rocketed through the flames towards his head. "That was close!"

"Oi! Onē-san, you can't just steal a man's fight like that!" Saburōta growled lowly and pursued the interruption with his fingers weaving his baton in a flaming circle. "That's totally uncool!"

"Heads up! Two against one isn't fair!"

Saburōta jerked his attention towards the skies that had previously delivered Neirah only to meet Andy's energetic smirk. "Keh?! What the hell!?"

Yūjirō flinched, narrowly dodging Neirah's bombardment to catch the notice of Andy flipping his way around Saburōta's impatient chase. "Dōmyōji! I said that one was mine!" A winded bark locked in his chest as Neirah raised her boot behind his distraction and beat him forward by his tailbone.

"Actually, I found him, so he's _mine_!" she nearly snarled through her bashful pout. When Yūjirō quickly recovered and swept his sword towards her, Neirah walked over her hands until she was where her comrade required her support. She caught the frustrated glint in quiet brown eyes as she danced her way back into the fray with a delicate chortle.

After straightening, she spiralled her chain around her lean frame, using her surging aura from the boiling links to protect her from Yūjirō's final assault on her departure. "Bandō, baby," she purred.

It was humiliating enough to be passed around opponents that wouldn't take him as seriously as he initially thought. Then, when he heard Neirah call to him in her cute sing-song voice, his nerves burned with intolerance until his cheeks flushed beneath his shades. "Would you quit callin' me that?!" But as bitter as he was, his cheeks still flushed with bashful fondness as he beat Andy's sword away with one reinforced forearm before raising the other for Neirah to vault off. "It's bad for a man's pride!"

Despite their playful dispute, Saburōta fluidly picked up on her unspoken command, supporting her elegant leap as she powered off the dark bar lining his arm. Just as she wound her body into an aerial tumble, he could have sworn there was sheepish colour in her face too. "Is anything good for your pride?" She only asked because she'd never heard him take a compliment, so it was genuine curiosity.

Saburōta took it as a staggering invitation to do some research, and that distracting thought wasn't as productive as he'd like. "A-ah, I could think of a few things." He muttered his suggestion in a mild voice and sheepishly scratched at his face, but he was quickly reminded of his reality when Yūjirō rushed his unfocused form.

Andy growled the moment he lost sight of his swift target and was quick to give chase. "Benzai, I'll leave this goof to you! I'm goin' after the lion!"

A dull groan rattled in Yūjirō's chest as he watched the pair depart as quickly as they'd come. "I said I'd deal with him, to begin with… Was all that completely necessary?"

"Screw both of you," Saburōta hissed with an impatient stamp of his foot. "How 'bout you two fight and _I'll_ go after the lion!?"

After Saburōta's encouraging boost, Neirah took her chase to the air between buildings, darting between window ledges and folding herself over balconies. "Are you still back there?" Her shrill squeal was almost musical as she gripped a railing, lurching off the strength of her fingertips to narrowly avoid the cool burn of his sword slicing the steel.

"Does that answer your question?" Andy ground through an eager smirk. "I won't give up that easily, even if you are fast!" She'd disrespected their captain, their lieutenant, their ways. But most importantly, it took him hours to polish her fingerprints off his sword. "If anyone's gonna arrest HOMRA's lion, it's gonna be me!"

Neirah bounced off the brick behind her before plummeting over where he advanced, her boots striking the pavement of the quiet street they charged down. "I'm most impressed," she cooed. "And that's no easy feat."

An impish chuckle caught in his throat as he powered off his perch, flipped backwards and sailed back on track with the spirited huntress. "Yeah, I kinda got that from what that other red guy said." He successfully outmaneuvered the lash of her chain as it buckled the street beneath his feet. "He didn't seem too happy about you jumpin' into his fight back there."

Neirah recalled her shackles and whirled in an attempt to cross the street against Andy's resistance. "That's irrelevant. Wolf-kun is mine to protect." Despite Saburōta's every effort to impress her, she would much rather stunt his pride if it meant keeping him safe.

Andy beat one of her darts away, bounding off the building behind him to skip its return. "Really? I thought you were with that punk-ish skateboarding guy? That's what Fushimi said, wasn't it?"

_Oh?_ For a moment, she locked her chain between her hands and satisfied her curiosity. "Does Fushimi-san talk about me often?"

Andy derisively snorted as he landed with both hands around the hilt of his blade, crashing into the pavement between them and sending his force straight towards her. "Yeah right. He barely talks at all unless you people are involved!"

_You people_. Closing her eyes, she smiled humbly to herself and lost track of her thoughts for a moment, sidestepping his rush of power with a delicate tut. "How disappointing."

After leaping into a forward somersault, Andy's sabre slashed into Neirah's boiling chain strike, jerking the weapon from between dedicated palms before he landed. Once his feet planted on the road behind her, he lunged. Unfortunately, Neirah's reflexes were swift enough that, once she was unarmed, she drew the kunai from her belt and whirled to pitch it at him amidst a brilliant flare.

"Woo, touchy subject?" Andy yipped roguishly from behind his blue guard. "That was pretty unexpected. You're kinda crazy, huh? But in a good way."

Neirah ignored his clumsy prattle. "If you're prying into my love-life looking for a date, I wouldn't bother," she drawled in a sultry tone. "As single as I am, crushing on me would be bad for your health."

Andy outwardly laughed as she reclaimed her chain weapon, drawing them to a standstill in the street. "Oh, don't worry about that," he teased. He dropped his sword over his shoulder and let it tap a couple of times. "I think I could handle crazy, but just not your crazy."

Neirah struck, sending their weapons into a choir of musical collisions forcing each of them to stay on their toes. "What an outlandish redundancy," she sassed.

"Eh? Wait, you can't be mad at me for being interested and not being interested at the same time."

Her smile broadened as she wrapped her chain around his sword. Once she'd captured it, she spun into his chest, jerking her elbow into his solar plexus before heaving on his weapon. "That's hypocrisy."

Andy winced with her strike but refused to release his blade. When she jerked him forward, he let the momentum carry him over her head so he could snatch his weapon free. He landed gracefully, keeping his balance with one hand as the other reapplied his sword's menace. "Man, you use too many big words, and it's kinda confusing, but in a good way."

Neirah whirled on her heels and smiled at him over her shoulder. "So, you like intelligent girls?"

"Sure!" he admitted frankly. "But not you. You're scary."

"In a good way?"

"Nope. Just the regular not interested kind."

"That's good, 'cause I'm not lettin' you lay a finger on her!"

Andy yelped, scattering to the flaming burst of a kick that nearly took off his nose. He dodged the heat to one side until his back struck Akira's and startled them both into turning their swords on one another. "Oh! Hidaka! What's up?"

_Eh?_ Akira seemed bemused by his sudden partner swap, still slightly floored by Rikio's ability to be somewhere he wasn't in less than a second. "Dōmyōji-san? Wait, where'd the big guy go?"

Rikio snorted gruffly behind Neirah as he narrowed his gaze on the sight of the boys interacting. "This little punk's askin' for it," he growled under his breath. "Chasin' you around like that. Just wait 'til Chitose finds out."

After winding her chain around her palms, Neirah tipped her head back so she could look up at Rikio's looming posture lingering with his arms folded over his chest. "To be honest, it was kind of my fault for leading him on."

A bashful Andy immediately jerked his flustered attention to where Neirah was deriding his purpose. "Oi! Didn't you hear me already?! You're crazy, lady, and I still owe you one for what you did to Excalibur!"

Neirah's calm smile broadened as the memories filled her. It wasn't too long ago that the same boys taking a brave stand against her were just fledglings in the supernatural world. They'd come a long way since that day at the mall. "Ri-chan?"

Rikio responded by locking his scowl on their combined targets, and he rolled his knuckles beneath his free hand.

A couple of streets over, a steel pole locked with a sword, making the night ring with the collision of alloys and bitter curses. "Saruhiko…" Misaki growled through his teeth. "If you think I'm gonna let you walk away from this after all you did, you're dead wrong!"

Saruhiko sniggered deviously and leaned all of his force into Misaki's persistence. "What's this? Aren't you going to help your girlfriend?"

An entertained snort rushed out of Misaki's chest as his sinister smirk broadened. "Ch'ye right! After she's done fuckin' up your little pals, her and I are gonna take you down together!"

_Pals._ It grated on Saruhiko's nerves to have Misaki instantly consider that his new clan had so seamlessly replaced his old one. He didn't make friends with any reds, and he had no intention of befriending any blues. He didn't need anyone. All he needed was control of his fate. With a sudden surge of blue aura, Saruhiko broke their standoff, forcing Misaki to leap away from the swift strike to follow. "As romantic as that sounds, I'm not interested," Saruhiko droned upon fixing his spectacles against his nose. His eyes flashed when they opened to lock on his target and fill with a vengeance. "Nothing is interesting about a woman who can't figure out what she wants in this world."

Shrill clanging of weapons colliding between entangling auras deafened the combatants as Misaki beat off Saruhiko's fierce slashes. "Dumbass! All she wanted was to be your friend!" he thundered in opposition. "Was that too much to ask for?!" Their blades locked again for a moment before Misaki was dropping and kicking his foot towards Saruhiko's boots, which immediately fled the impact. "She's not your fucking doormat! She's a human being with feelings and shit!"

When Saruhiko landed nearby, he was staggered by Misaki's words, not the brute force to clamour against his skilled defence. "Hold on," Saruhiko hummed casually. His intense leer tapered on his old friend as his wicked beam broadened. "Could it be? Have you _actually_ fallen in love with Tsukiyo?"

Saruhiko's words managed to make contact with Misaki using enough force that the riled warrior was stumbling over his own feet and crashing into the street without being the victim of Saruhiko's sword at all. Embarrassed by his blunder, Misaki quickly scrambled to his feet and steadied his polearm in both hands. "Y-yeah right! E-everyone knows that-"

"That _what_?" Saruhiko's instigation was merciless as his wild gaze sparkled with intrigue. "Say it!" he commanded. "Everyone knows that she always liked _me_ better!" Saruhiko's heart started to race when Misaki's once playful expression clouded over maliciously. "That's it, isn't it?" he droned. "You're just pissed off that she never noticed you when you were standing next to me."

"That's not true," Misaki snarled beneath his breath. "Tsukiyo's not like that." She was his friend and one who was there to make him smile after his closest friend deserted him. They laughed together, and she cared. She cared more than Saruhiko had the day he abandoned their life together.

"How does it feel?!" Saruhiko protested vehemently. "Tell me, Misaki! What does it feel like knowing that that one person you care about the most doesn't even know you exist?!"

In a sudden surge of ferocious flames, Misaki launched across the street and collided with Saruhiko, sending both of them down the pavement in a violent scuffle. "Bastard! Don't you dare talk about Tsukiyo like you ever cared to know a fucking thing about her!" he raged to the sound of alloy's colliding. "The things she likes or doesn't like. The way she feels." With a rebellious bark, he swept his polearm across his front with enough force that Saruhiko was encouraged to leap out of the trajectory. It was all in her eyes, and Misaki couldn't consciously recall a time where Saruhiko had ever just quietly absorbed the secrets that she tried to conceal behind them.

And what infuriated him the most was that, most recently, when Misaki looked in her eyes during quiet moments, all she saw was the pain. She missed Saruhiko, and he knew that. He wasn't bitter about it because of a petty rivalry. He was livid because that undying admiration went wasted on someone who didn't care to reciprocate her comradery. "You don't know a damn thing about her," he grated in a furious hiss. "If you did, you never would've betrayed her like you did the rest of us."

"That's right, I did betray her, didn't I?" Saruhiko spat rancorously. "I betrayed your precious Tsukiyo _and_ your beloved HOMRA."

_'You betrayed me, asshole,' _Misaki mused with aching heartbeats thundering hard in his chest.

"I even betrayed. your. king."

Misaki's wild expression hardened with rage.

"So, come and get me-"

And he attacked.

"_Misaki_!"

Neirah could interact seamlessly with nearly any of her friends during combat, but she excelled as a solo hunter. Andy finally lost track of her somewhere between Masaomi and Kōsuke, but she lingered pressed to admit that she was grateful for a moment to catch her breath. He was certainly persistent. She closed her eyes as she left the commotion behind, feeling the wind in her hair as she rushed through the vacant street. She was wind and fire, and flames didn't whimper, they-

Suddenly, Neirah's breath rushed from her lungs past her fading smile in a forceful blast nearly powerful enough to choke her. Wide eyes floated between planes of existence as she froze in place, tears burning against her ducts as she struggled to keep her hand from embracing the ache in her chest. Outwardly, all anyone would see was a surprised woman lingering on the realization that two worlds were about to collide, but on the inside, she wanted to scream.

"I know what you're going to say," a smooth voice drawled upon their steady approach. Boot heels clicked towards her against the street as a kind song filled the night. "And yes. I did run all the way here." The gentle rattle of plastic frames folding in his hand caused Neirah's breathing to hitch even more painfully in her burning lungs as he stuffed red glasses into his blue jacket pocket. His smile was bright and sincere. "Not that it's all too surprising since I've been trying to keep up with you since middle school." Gentle fingers combed back his side-swept ashy brown bangs as his dark brunet gaze tilted to meet hers. "But I'm here now. Ready to be a part of your world."

She could feel it, tugging at her lips as she fought the wave of emotions crashing into her wracked body. The song of his sword sliding fluidly from its sheath rung in her ears as he rotated it a couple of times by his wrist before steadying it vertically in front of his familiar face. She didn't know which one of them was more surprised when her smile burst across her face and twisted until her excitement shone through the sparkle in wide sapphire eyes.

"Okazaki, ready."

Without another word, her body burst into flames, to which her typically skittish friend hadn't budged. Pride swelled beneath her breast as she unfurled her chain amidst the heat on approach. The moment his blade collided with her shackles, it chased the first anxious scream from within her, and her enthusiasm intensified. She wove her weapon elegantly through the air, not a bit frustrated when Gin batted every assault away with one hand remaining folded behind his back.

He was trying not to touch her, letting their weapons speak instead. She wanted to cry. Neirah had never been so elatedly relieved in all of her life, not that Gin would notice that when she flipped her chain over his head and jerked his legs out from beneath him.

Gin tumbled clumsily, barking his discomfort when his skull bounced off the street. Honestly, it still hurt less than Misaki's skateboard to his temple. After being distracted only momentarily, Gin's eyes flew open to regain focus when he felt the mortal world fall from beneath him.

When brown eyes met blue, emotions raged between two starstruck comrades lingering in a moment they shared amid combining worlds. Neirah had mounted his chest, her knees pinching either side of the blue uniform coat he shared with his new clanmates. She was radiant, and streetlights flashed in her glassy gaze as it burned with a flame he'd never been able to see before. And he could feel it in her touch that seared into his memory for him to hold closest to his racing heart.

His lips barely parted to speak his triumph through his huffing breaths. "I think this is the first time you've ever touched me," he murmured tenderly.

Neirah's smile didn't fade as she leaned down and let unkempt auburn tresses frame his gentle face. Her lips were a breath away from his as she curled her head to one side, her dazzling smile flashing the sadistic warning whispered. "Welcome to my world, Gin."

It was in the next moment that Gin remembered that even if they were finally on the same page, they were enemies in the story unfolding before them. His fond gaze widened alertly to the sight of her slipping a knife from beneath the lustrous curtain of hair lining her back, nimbly weaving it between her fingers before lunging. He bared his teeth nervously, rolling his head to one side to avoid the strike as he slipped both palms beneath her knees and the concrete.

He heaved on her lean frame with all his might, thrusting muscular thighs off his torso to reluctantly free himself from her nearness. She used the momentum to propel herself, turning her fall into an elegant airborne layout before landing on her feet with an eager hiss. "This is for ignoring all of my messages!" She folded her arm across her chest before savagely pitching her free knife through the air at breakneck speeds.

With an embarrassed chuckle, Gin's single-handed cartwheel bounded to the left, laying his hand against his sabre to reclaim it in the process. "Sorry about that!" Once he was back on his feet, he popped the blade into the air to capture it in his right hand, noting how convenient his ambidexterity was in the heat of battle. "I had to work pretty hard to catch up with everyone else," he reassured her casually. But that was just Gin. When he set his mind to something, nothing could stand in his way. It was a trait that Munakata Reisi was particularly fond of when the persistent youth all but begged his attention. He was resilient and focussed, and finally, he was ready to be a part of her life.

After retrieving his blade with a playful twirl, he calmly deflected the knife that she threw across her body. He was rather fond of the exhilarated heaving of her chest beneath her HOMRA brand, and the last time he saw a smile that broad on her face, she was talking about Tatara. It was a nice feeling that left him warm from his head to the tips of his toes.

Gin gave his wrist another playful spin, letting his blade reflect her mesmerizing flames now that he understood why they burned. He returned his free hand to where it folded by the base of his spine, straightening confidently in her wake. It was time for them to talk, and even if they didn't say another word, he was ready to understand her. "HOMRA's Red Lion," he purred proudly. "I don't have a fancy name, but I'd like it if we could do this more often."

"Well, if that's what you'd like-" The street between them burst into flames as her double layout saw her chain looping between them in a whirlwind of swelling auras. "Then you'd best live long enough for a second date!"

His sunny smile was as sincere as it'd ever been as sparks glittered in the humid air between them. "Naturally!"


	37. Break Special - Kage

**~Break Special~**

**Kage**

* * *

The entire city felt the pressure of the night shift to the surge of power rushing between buildings on both sides. Even by where she watched next to Tatara from a safe distance, Anna could feel it too. The cool breeze rustled her fair silver strands around her face, tickling her youthful features despite her emotions refusing to flash a giggle. Through the crimson marble filtering her eye, she watched Mikoto and Reisi collide, sending jolts of power rushing into the black sky above.

"Mikoto…"

Next to Anna, Tatara laughed lightly, a sympathetic melody in his voice as he attempted to reassure her. "It's okay. That was just the kings saying hello to each other."

Her expression didn't mark her impatience as she lowered her marble and faced him, but her tone held an air of caution as she spoke. "Tatara, be serious."

A mild laugh escaped his lips to be scolded by such a young lady. When he considered his words, he supposed they did sound strange, but he didn't mind. "Sorry," he murmured sheepishly. "But I don't think it's something to worry about. Sure, King and Munakata-san are fighting, but I bet that they're actually communicating through their swords."

Anna slowly returned her unfiltered gaze to the scene that was unfolding before them. She looked up towards the heavens and humbly observed the glowing blades hanging above the quarrelling kings. "Oh…" was all she could muster. It seemed hard to consider the force shaking the ground beneath them as _talking_.

"Nei-chan talks about these types of things a lot," Tatara started soundly. "Like the way people interact. How they communicate."

Below, the street quaked beneath Mikoto's burning fist as he attempted to ward off the persistent Blue King to no avail. The power of his impact was monumental, but his teeth still milled into an entertained smirk as he leapt after his cunning counterpart.

"Sometimes, it's more than just the words you say. It's how you say them, or why, what it makes you feel when your eyes meet."

Neirah's beam was causing her jaw to ache as Gin parried her attacks, but when she finally captured him, there was unspoken gratitude in his eyes as his flushed expression locked on her forwardness. But outwardly thanking her for punishment might seem strange.

"There are so many important things to consider that sometimes, we miss the real meaning, and if we focus too much on the words, we miss the way they make us feel."

After catching his polearm between the curb and the street, Misaki whirled his fiery kick into Saruhiko's defences, causing sparks to fly. Even from high above the city, Anna could still hear Misaki's enraged curses filling the night, and the way Saruhiko dismissed them with a laugh.

Tatara couldn't help but humbly smile as he watched over their friends from safety. "That's why all we can do is wait while they say what's on their minds in the best way they know how. It might not look any different than fighting from where we're standing, but I can guarantee you that there is more to it than meets the eye."

Filled with concern, Anna gently shuffled in place with the need to stop the chaos. "What if someone gets hurt?"

Tatara's sighed as he watched the individual conflicts raise dust on the streets below. "But words can hurt too," he reminded her soundly. "When you're talking with someone, your words can become like a sword. That's why you have to be careful what you say. Otherwise, misunderstandings can happen."

By his side, Anna became quiet while she pondered. She didn't disagree that bullying was harmful. She never agreed with how some of her clanmates interacted, but what Anna was watching wasn't Misaki choking the life out of Saburōta over a petty grudge, or Masaomi beating Yō over the head for a pervy comment. What she witnessed was nothing short of war.

Sensing her unrest, Tatara gently reached out and rested his hand against her shoulder, causing Anna to jolt from her thoughts. "Don't worry, Anna-chan. It looks like everyone's having a great time tonight."

The delicate Strain still wasn't convinced. "But they're fighting."

"True," he admitted. "But doesn't it also look like they're dancing?" He retracted his palm and raised it in front of him to let fluttering wings climb from his hand into the night. "See? like this butterfly." Together, they watched it soar towards Mikoto's mighty sword and blend with the massive waves of flame eroding the majestic surface. "To most, a butterfly is a harmless creature, but I just made it out of a flame, which can burn and cause harm. Are our friends dancing or fighting? Are their hearts saying more than what we can hear them say with words? Nothing is as it seems." He turned his smile towards Anna with a playful wink. "It's all a matter of perspective, see?"

Entranced with the sight of Mikoto's blaze devouring the tender insect Tatara released, Anna's garnet irises began to glow with the reflection of surging flames. "Pretty…"

After diverting her eyes towards the battlefield, she reconsidered the smiling faces beneath and became somewhat accepting of Tatara's theory. Maybe they were fighting, but Anna had borne witness to some terrifying scenes of her friends punishing cruel people for terrible deeds. If they wanted to spill the blood of their enemies, they would. It made her consider that what they wanted wasn't nearly as absolute.

"There's so much red," she whispered. She watched the swelling auras bounce between the buildings, looking similar to fireflies at a distance, congregating around the mighty swords dangling above. "Some big and some small." When she adjusted her perspective, she could see the glowing dance of embers drifting on the wind. And it was beautiful.

Tatara flinched to consider the red that Anna was capable of seeing. She had spoken of it before to him when he started to record videos of their time together, but he'd never gotten the chance to ask her about the way she viewed their friends. "That's right," he murmured. "You can see things like that, can't you?" He turned to watch the same view through a plainer filter as she slowly nodded her head. He could only imagine what their comrades might have looked like to the Strain when she watched them dart around the city burning so brightly.

"So, Anna-chan, who has the biggest red?" When he turned over his shoulder to face her lingering silence, he laughed at how awkward the child looked staring back at him lifelessly when he knew what she really felt was impatience. "Oh, right! I mean, other than King."

Anna considered the battles beneath for a moment, searching for Izumo first. Then, she compared the soothing flicker of his red with the wild of Misaki's. She seemed to linger on her contemplation before finally announcing her verdict. "Onē-san."

_E-eh?_ Tatara's breathing hitched as he turned to face her directly, his heart missing a beat as he devoted his focus to Anna's words. "Nei-chan? Really?"

Anna gave a gentle nod as she continued to watch Neirah's reunion with Gin unfold. Outwardly, the woman looked happy, but what Anna saw lay much more in-depth than words could explain. It made her wonder if that was what Tatara meant by communicating beyond words. It seemed like there was no logical way to understand why the discrepancy haunted her big sister's steps. "Onē-san's red is closest to Mikoto's," she quietly educated. "It's angry."

Concern flashed across Tatara's face as he stumbled uneasily to the announcement. "Angry?" He'd never heard Anna describe Mikoto's red as such. It was always _pretty_ or _lovely_. To have Neirah's red compared to Mikoto's, and then listen to her while she described it as such was unnerving.

Another slow nod rattled Anna's head. "It's confused."

When he bowed his head, Tatara carefully considered Anna's words. Izumo had spoken about Neirah's stability before, but Tatara never wanted to see it for what it truly was. Everyone had their story, and some of them started sadly, but that didn't mean that the ending needed to be tragic. That was why Mikoto took her hand after they struggled with her ex-employer. He gave her the power to rewrite her story. But Tatara could understand Anna's concern. Neirah didn't know what she wanted out of life because she was still getting used to living. Furthermore, he didn't know what to say to comfort the fretful Strain.

"Nei-chan is like… King's shadow."

Anna quietly returned her eyes to Tatara with a glimmer of curiosity.

His tone was low and sombre as he continued. "It's like… when he took her hand that night, some of his red became hers. If that's true, maybe we all inherited just enough of King's power that we could keep it managed, and that's why some of us have more."

All while Mikoto battled to cage the beast sharing its poison.

"That's why… someone like me probably has a small red, but he could pass on so much more to people like Kusanagi-san and Nei-chan so that he doesn't have to keep it all inside." His tone lowered further as he considered the chastening thought. "That's how I know King needs us. If he had to manage all that power on his own, it would be really tiring." Even with their help, it still seemed difficult to contain, from what Tatara observed. "I think we help lessen that burden, somehow, and… remind him why it's worth fighting."

Anna's silence didn't comfort him, and he figured it was probably for the best that she didn't speak. He knew his red probably wasn't impressive, so to hear her confirm his suspicion wasn't necessary. Every little bit helped, and there was nothing that said a small red couldn't be of use to their king.

"That's how I know that she'll be okay. Even if her red is angry, it will protect her. I never have to worry about whether or not she'll make it home because she's King's hunter, and if she were ever in danger, his red would keep her safe. It's what protects all of us." Tatara quietly considered his theory. He wasn't sure if Mikoto had that sort of control over the disbursement of powers, but then again, if he did, he would never tell. It was a pretty thought if nothing else. It helped support the fact that they were all somehow connected through their king and his powers. It made him feel closer to their family.

"A king needs a shadow to remind him how brightly he burns…" His words were barely a whisper on his lips over the wind, but a small smile tugged at his sad expression, and he watched Neirah's glowing eyes shine with delight as she put the run on Gin. "That's why he needs her. She is the shadow of a king, and she'll be there for as long as he burns."

Anna slowly turned away, watching the same carefree sight as she contemplated his sentiment. "The shadow… of a king," she parroted.

Tatara remembered it like it was yesterday, but it was April 25th, 2008. It was cold and rainy as they stood between the buildings across the street from the bar that they call home. The surging flames reflected off of his glassy eyes as Mikoto's palm captured Neirah's so tightly that the tendons in the back of his hand raised. That night, Tatara heard the words speak beyond what could ever verbally communicate between kindred spirits.

_Burn with me._

And as Neirah remained perfectly calm, her hair whispering wildly around her shoulders while she inhaled the chest-expanding breath of the life he returned to her, he heard her whisper:

_I promise._


	38. Kunai

**Kunai**

* * *

_**November 20th, 2010**_

It was late enough to be returning that all the halls were dark and quiet. Most of the elaborate dormitory was still, and no doubt, housing many slumbering faces that Saruhiko hadn't learned to recognize yet. He didn't care to, and actually, he put forth a great effort to resist so much as learning their names. It wasn't his intention to replace red faces with blue ones, and the more time he spent occupied with work, the less time he had to think about it.

There was a dull groan sliding past grinding teeth as he reached out to his room's door handle with one hand, his other drawing to the popped collar his superior was regularly riding him about straightening. It seemed like HOMRA wasn't the only clan with a busty bombshell bent on making every one of their clanmate's lives difficult.

Sakura. His nerves strained as he drew the scent to the forefront of his mind, tricking himself into remembering the way it smelled when she laid across his lap. "Damn it," he muffled under his breath through his intolerant scowl. "Why the hell… did I have to compare them?" When his suspicious gaze assured him that no one else was looking, he slipped his fingers beneath his shirt to itch at the self-inflicted burn attempting to blot out the memories. "They aren't even remotely the same."

Even knowing that he belonged to the faction surrounding him, it didn't stop his shifty, lethargic gaze from peering over his shoulder before he entered his room. It was his and his alone, so why he felt like he anticipated someone might try to join him was inconceivable. Even though Seri suggested that he room with Gin, his decline was swift and concrete. Gin may have been a member long before Saruhiko was, but every time he looked past the man's crimson spectacles, he saw Tatara. The similarities, even in personalities, were uncanny. If they had forced him to room with the man, it was likely that he'd kill him.

No matter the lengths he went to, he couldn't seem to escape HOMRA's shadow trailing him wherever he roamed, and it was maddening. The deep crease in his brow and the tug of fatigue made his analytical gaze sag, noting that it might have something to do with the strain of making his mark in SCEPTRE4 territory. For someone who wasn't particularly energetic on any given day, he'd become a bit of a workaholic.

Dismissing the surreal feeling knotting his face, he closed himself into his blackened room and locked the door behind him on pure instinct. When he comprehended what he'd done, he heard Misaki's words cut over his meandering thoughts and chill him like a ghost had just slipped through him:

"_You should probably lock the door behind me."_

_Tsk._

Saruhiko's chest began to heave as the pace of his eager scratching hastened, his trim nails tearing at the flesh that remained branded by red memories. He wanted to know why he was locking it, was it to keep someone out? Or to barricade himself in? Why was that what Misaki wanted? Did the idiot even realize what he was saying before he said it? His free hand began to wring the steel lock like it might answer his angry thoughts. Lock it. Lock the door. But why did he have to lock Misaki on the other side? Which one of them was that benefitting?

Just as his thoughts threatened to draw a livid bark from his chest, they derailed, and the crash of realization made his heartbeat race when his fingers suddenly stilled against his collar. Once his itching had stopped tainting the silence with white noise, his senses sharpened, and he captured his next few breaths in his lungs. After a brief moment of consideration, he heard a delicate shuffle that he could have easily mistaken for the wind, and his next heartbeat brought him to life.

With wide eyes focussed on the way the shadows closed in around him, he snapped a set of throwing knives between his knuckles, launching them into the darkened room. The dull thump of contact didn't satisfy him, though. Until he heard desperate cries of pain, agonized screams, he wouldn't let up his offensive rain. Blades combed his other wrist before they sailed, and two free hands afterwards shot behind his back to draw more.

Whirling to follow the whisper of movement mocking the delicacy of the leaves tumbling from the fall coloured trees outside, Saruhiko carelessly pitched the third set of knives into the walls of his room. As the blades neared the window, he finally saw it, the shadow of a hunter on the prowl. As his teeth began to grind, he tapered his gaze with focus and grabbed a final knife from his boot. What he thought was going to come out as an aggravated growl broke as a full-on roar as he straightened his arm and laid his lethal trap.

"Why are you running?!" Wincing with the sound of his voice cracking the peaceful façade of the dormitory, he lowered it but deepened the command in his tone. "If you think that I don't know you're there, you're even more empty-headed than I thought!"

Saruhiko's gaze widened to the sight of a glimmer intercepting the moonlight filtering through his window, and in the next instant, he was catching one of his returned throwing knives as it threatened to pierce his skull. There was only one other person he knew capable of mimicking his lethal force with as much accuracy as he could, and it was not a welcome one.

Saruhiko began to seethe impatience the moment the muffled clicking of spiked heels sounded, leaping from their perch and pacing towards him. Of course, her footsteps only made a noise when she wanted to announce her presence. It was a scare-tactic, but Saruhiko could never allow himself to cower from the likes of her. Their relationship had been a battle since day one, and it was one he refused to lose.

He didn't think to question how she managed to drop from the walls, perhaps because he felt guilty for his offensive poking so many holes into them. As her footsteps grew closer, the rhythmic tapping echoing in his hollow mind, he began to choke on the palpitations of his heartbeat while they hammered against his chest. It wasn't fear, but it wasn't entirely angry either. He didn't want to admit that it was excitement, but between all three, his lean body rushed to action her threat. As soon as the moonlight illuminated her sultry leer burning with an amethyst flicker, he was arming himself with another handful of darts.

"You shouldn't be here," he hissed lowly. His relaxed posture began to strain as one set of fingers dusted the door at his back, his armed hand carefully folding across his front in preparation for the conflict. "This isn't where you belong!"

Neirah walked over her hands as he lunged towards her, successfully dodging the first knife. Once she had, her legs bloomed as she spun, one of them striking him hard in the chin to force him to back off. Flexing her wrists with a feminine grunt of exertion, she popped back onto her toes and watched him rub his assaulted face, his rage intensifying.

When the glistening of black steel was on approach again, she made an effort to catch one of his knives and use it to deflect a second, giving his sleek dart a skillful twirl between nimble fingers. "You know, I always liked your knives better." She could tell by the way his steps were retreating that he was running low on ammunition, and the realization made her shiver with anticipation. It was the reason why she had tied a chain to hers, so she would never find herself so vulnerable when danger lurked near. "They're so much more versatile."

Saruhiko moved to draw his sabre as the shadow approached. Still, before he made the emergency command to release it, Neirah was leaping into his proximity and lurching to her feet. She beat the butt of her palm against the underside of his jaw, and when he snapped his head back into line prepared to retaliate, his pulse met the pressure of her notorious golden kunai.

Saruhiko's chest heaved with the stress of his assault, and the tickle of steel against his swallow caused his dark eyes to burn with ferocity. "Why are you here?" His tone was flat and quiet when he snarled it as venomously as he could between bared teeth.

There was a playful shimmer in her lively sapphire gaze as she beat her lashes mock-flirtatiously in his direction. "How many more of those do you have stashed around your person?" she sang in a dark whisper. "Or did you bring them all out to say hello?"

With silent reflexes shifting imperceptibly beneath her threat, Saruhiko reached behind the unfurling tail of his uniform jacket to unveil his last defence. Knocking her away with unrelenting force, he grasped her upper arm and spun her shoulders into his chest. After she crashed into his body with a momentary lapse of stability, he snugly pinched the tip of his blade into her jaw's belly.

It wasn't unexpected, but when she burst into sultry laughter, every muscle in his body tightened. "Stop that…" he growled quietly against the side of her head. She didn't, and he couldn't contain his anger. "Do you think this is some kind of a joke?!"

Neirah closed her eyes, rolling her head against him as her smile broadened. "Ah, there it is," she hummed fondly. "So, you _were_ paying attention."

Pressing his lips against her soft auburn waves, he muttered his words snidely against the cherry scent that should have warned him of her presence before he'd ever let her into his dorm. "Something I picked up from a past life," he snarled. "I always keep one in reserve in case I have to go for the kill."

Neirah tipped her head back into his collar, causing him to chase her pulse with his blade. "Oh, please," she whispered. "If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now."

As his agitation festered, his free hand raised to his collar to give his desecrated HOMRA brand an itch. "What do you want, Tsukiyo?"

He let his guard down. Twisting her impish grin to one side as she shifted, she made a risky advance and caught his ankle with her heel. When she kicked him off balance with the pressure, she folded at the hips to avoid his flailing blade. Confident that she had proven her point, she latched onto his strained forearm, cracking his wrist with a brutal twist to disarm him. Once he'd released his last hope, she spun while crouching, allowing the delicate instrument to drop into her palm at her tailbone.

When she rose again, she made sure to sink the tip of his knife into ivory flesh, where his collar met his neck, pinching the tense artery in warning as it swelled with annoyance. But before he could consider knocking her away, he felt the warning jab of her decorated blade prod against his ribcage. Having his life threatened by an ex-clanmate was appalling enough, but of all the people who could have ambushed him, it had to be the one who could complicate the situation the most.

"You seem to have an itch?" Her frosty mockery murmured so close to the tip of his chin that he could feel the softly exerted breath heaving her tension. It made his molars grind. "Shall I scratch it for you?" Her tone, like her gaze, thinned as she focused on the venom she poured into her sultry sentiment. "Or should I carve it out instead?"

For as long as he'd known her, her gaze had never intimidated him. It was one of the only things he appreciated about the fiery spirit before him. So, when he watched it glaze over with bloodlust, it triggered an undesirable reaction within him and caused his body to stiffen.

Sensing his unease, she trailed his ebony blade over his skin towards the ruined mark barely concealed beneath his white collar. She let the tip flirt with the black lines for a moment before poking his shirt out of the way, careful to keep her pressure on his ribs. "This seems a little unnecessary," she whispered. Cocking her head to one side, she slowly twisted his knife like the way the lines disfigured with scaring memorized her. "I suppose this should make me angry… should it?"

The taste of defeat was bitter as he lazily dropped his head back against the door that she'd pinned him to with an exhausted sigh. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the moonlight cast the shadows that previously concealed her stalking form. After a dry swallow banished the knot from his throat, he spoke in a deceitfully passive voice that failed to reflect his command. "How did you get in here?"

"How do you think?" she cooed roguishly. "The same way I always do." Her smile wickedly broadened as she lowered her hand to his collar and peeled back the cashmere flap to reveal his damaged brand. "You let me in."

Knotting his brow with a jumble of emotion caused a flash of pain to disrupt his impatience. He was so busy hating HOMRA that he had ignored his senses, warning him that someone was watching. It was a rookie mistake and shame he promised he wouldn't feel again. She moved soundlessly and as fluidly as the wind. When she was a threat on his heels, he couldn't afford to be distracted. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you're even human."

Neirah lowered her weapons, eagerly accepting his invitation to be civil. She hadn't wanted anything different, but his reception was rather rude. Still, his sour tone made her sing her amusement in a playful wave of laughter as she casually dusted her thumb over the irritated brand they used to share. "Charming as always."

The moment Neirah's soft finger touched the scars of his wounded collar, his once tapered gaze burst open to the sight of blood, hope and trust flooding the backs of his eyes with feelings that had no perceivable image. What he felt deep in his core was unexplainable. Anger was what he wanted to claim led his body to shudder so suddenly, but when it began to tremble, he had to acknowledge the notes of fear and betrayal too.

Saruhiko shoved away from the woman, panting frantic breaths as he clutched the mark with a searing palm and stared into her curious eyes with mortification in his. "What did you just do?" he demanded in an escalated hiss. He quickly checked his back, searching the room for the sight of whatever illusion stirred behind tired eyes, not a moment prior.

Neirah was startled by his sudden rejection, but she didn't know why it seemed unexpected out of someone like him. She raised her fingertips to her lips thoughtfully and considered his reaction as she watched the panic steal him away. Her concerned gaze never left the sight of his alarm, so it wasn't surprising that their eyes connected again when he'd settled.

After meditating on his panic for a moment, he'd begun to catch his breath. He removed his palm from the mark she'd stirred, checking his hand before reconnecting their gazes. What he'd felt was something he couldn't explain, which was what startled him the most. He considered himself a rather intelligent mind, so when something confused him to that extent, it was nothing short of alarming. It was vaguely reminiscent of different feelings. Feelings he had when Misaki used to brush his knuckles up against the same mark, only this time, it didn't fill him with warmth and familiarity. I was something much darker.

"Anywhere but there," he rushed out under a ragged breath. He dropped his gaze from hers, beginning to regain his composure as he gripped his collar and slowly concealed the mark again. "Anywhere," he repeated in a hoarse whisper. As his tapered gaze focussed on the way her shadow cast on the floor, he slowly shook his head in denial of a repeated offence. "Not there."

Neirah wasn't sure what suddenly happened, but when she considered how skittish Saruhiko could be, it reminded her not to act surprised. "Fushimi-san? Is everything okay?"

_Tsk._ Flashing her teeth, he turned away and began picking his knives out of the walls. Seri would be furious with the damage he caused, and explaining himself wasn't going to be easy. He had no problem condemning HOMRA, but to admit that he let their hunter infiltrate their ranks only to escape wasn't something he thought his pride could handle. "Go home, Tsukiyo," he frigidly commanded. "If you're here to tell me how much you miss me and beg me to come back, don't waste your-"

"I'm here to pick your brain."

The last thing he wanted was to have her back in his head after so long without worrying that she was secretly reading his trauma. He had spent so much time avoiding making eye-contact after his momentary panic attack that he hadn't noticed her climbing up into the top bunk of his bed. He ripped out the last blade, his lips relaxed as they parted, and careful eyes watched her smile softly as she drew her math textbook from her shoulder bag.

"Homework."

Suddenly, the familiarity had stopped warming him, and he focussed on icing his heart to her insistent charm. He let his expression deadpan, his lacklustre gaze burning duly with agitation. "Get out."

Even though he'd just tossed his reassembled arsenal out onto his desk, she didn't feel threatened enough to leave his bed. "But you know how _empty-headed_ I am," she pouted. "How am I going to get into a good college if I don't keep my math marks up?"

"That sounds like a you problem."

"It's your problem too."

With a furious bark, Saruhiko whirled to face her persistence. "Don't sit there and act like nothing's changed! You know damn well that this is wrong, so quit acting like a spoiled brat!"

"Do you want it to change?" Neirah's eyes sharpened, her confident expression meeting his intensity with unwavering devotion. She could be innocent and feminine when she felt like it, but she didn't want Saruhiko to forget that there was more to her than the sides that he despised. There were also parts of her that she was confident he felt were tolerable.

"I won't pry into your reasons for leaving, just like I never bothered to ask you why you didn't get along with the other members of HOMRA." She lowered her voice to reassure him that she wasn't angry with his defect to the Blue Clan. "My opinion of you hasn't changed. You're moody, irritable, grating and cold." She finally surrendered the intensity of his gaze and dropped hers to scan the unfamiliar room. "But you're my friend."

Saruhiko couldn't keep his tense fingers from mechanically rising to itch at his collar. "You and I were never friends." He had to hate her, that much hadn't changed, because no matter what, he couldn't admit that he missed her.

Without taking the threat in his tone, Neirah casually flopped back on his pillow with a soft sigh, opening her textbook to her intended assignments. "Says you."

"Oi, cut that out!" he barked intolerantly. "That's where I sleep, you little pest!"

"I know." She didn't mean to cause him to startle below, but despite his resistance, she knew him better than he thought. Maybe she didn't understand why he left HOMRA, but she knew that there were some aspects that he missed. The top bunk would always be his.

Neirah slowly closed the textbook, rolling onto her front and meeting his impatient glower as it poked over the edge of the top bunk. It didn't matter how lethal his expressions were. She couldn't keep the smile off her face as they lingered nose-to-nose. "I think we would have made a great team. Such a shame that we have to hate each other now." She sighed blissfully and laid her chin against her folded arms.

His low growl was partly muffled by the sheets that were dusting against his lips as he spoke. "As usual, you have no regard for personal space."

"You're quite handsome in blue. I don't know if you knew that." Testing him further, she rolled her chin against his mattress, reaching out to comb her fingers through his hair with his new part. Her heart fluttered when he didn't immediately threaten to break her arm, and her soft smile peeked through as she retracted her greedy paw. Now, if only she could get that unimpressed scowl off his face. A playful song filled her melodic tone as she giggled and withdrew her offending arm to fold it with the other against his sheets. "But if you tell my clan I said that I'll kill you~"

Saruhiko lingered for a moment on the rungs of the ladder, wondering if that was how Misaki used to feel when he teased him from a similar spot. After closing his eyes with surrender, he heaved a heavy sigh and reached past her curious pout to take hold of her math textbook. "I swear, it's like you left the other half of your brain in Nagasaki."

Her sunny smile flushed with bashful heat as she considered how familiar the entire encounter felt. "Nope. I just found the other half of my heart."

He jolted uneasily to the impact of her sentiment, but he couldn't afford to feel guilty for what he was about to do. Steadying himself on the ladder, he took her textbook in both hands, closing his eyes and raising it above their heads. Without a second thought, he cracked the book over the top of her crown, unfeeling to her pained yip. "Then take what's left of your brain, and your heart, and get out."

"O-owie," she whimpered. "And Onii-san wonders why I hate math..."

A delicate yelp stole her breathless gasp when Saruhiko picked her from his bed by her collar, dragging her from the bunk despite her desperate scramble. "I'm not going to ask again," he cautioned her bitterly. He hauled her to his door and shoved her book between her empty hands, trying not to recall a night that had played out similarly in their past. "And don't even think of getting cheeky. Cat or not, the next time I catch you in my room, I'll kill _you_."

As disappointed as she was, Neirah couldn't contain her sad smile. "You're just going to toss me out into the hall of the SCEPTRE4 dormitory? You know full well that if someone sees me, they'll be suspicious."

"I could send you out bloody if you prefer."

What sounded like a threat, was really an expression of trust. Neirah and Saruhiko were both aware of how complicated things would become if someone caught her sneaking around the area late at night. Sending her out of his room through the front door was a bold move, but he knew that if she didn't want someone to see her, they wouldn't. She was an assassin and skilled in her trade. Her threats were as empty as his. They always had been.

"I missed this."

Saruhiko flinched, a little shaken by the unexpected sincerity in her tone speaking words that he couldn't bring himself to say. That level of honesty rarely came out when they were bickering, but when it did, it always threatened to soften his heart.

"I don't begrudge you for what you did," she whispered. "But I just wanted you to know that my life wouldn't be the same without you in it. We were never really on the same page, anyway, so to me, nothing's changed." She didn't want it to, and it made her wonder. If they had asked him to stay, would that honesty have been enough to keep their world from shifting?

When he looked like he finally finished contemplating his next sarcastic quip, she smiled fondly and gently rolled the lock over on his door. A mischievous little giggle sounded as she cracked the door. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll be back to annoy you the next time my feet ache."

Saruhiko groaned and rolled his eyes, already missing the sincerity that he thought he hated. "Try it, and I'll break them," he susurrated low in warning. "I'll start with the right one. That's the one you lead with."

He stilled, taken off-guard by the words to leave his mouth. '_Why did I say that?'_ he mused through his aggravation. '_Who the hell cares which one she leads with!?'_

"_Don't you dare talk about Tsukiyo like you ever cared to know a fucking thing about her!"_

"Get out!" He closed his eyes, dropping his head with his livid roar. Saruhiko wasn't sure which of them he was talking to, Neirah or the nagging voice in his head tugging at heartstrings that he wished he didn't have. "Get out, and don't even _think_ of coming back!"

Neirah's heart raced as she lined the wall with her back and peeked out the door to make sure nobody was out wandering at that hour. Despite his eruption, she didn't rush away. With a sly little grin, she peeked his way for just a moment to remind him why they would always make a good team. "You'll take care of the surveillance footage, no?"

With a frustrated hiss, Saruhiko threw open his door, grabbed her by her collar and tossed her into the hall. He slammed his door loud enough to wake the entire building, and Neirah had to fight to stifle her entertained laugh when she heard the lock snap bitterly back into place.

Saruhiko slammed his shoulders against the door and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Once his nerves had settled, he quietly rolled his gaze to where her alluring scent undoubtedly tainted his pillow. As he approached the empty bed, he slowly reached up to where her presence had tainted his pillow. He grabbed the cushion tightly enough that if it drew breath, he'd be choking the life from it. After snatching the support from the bottom bunk to swap them, he bitterly tossed the cherry-scented betrayal against the lower mattress. Then he lingered for a moment, wondering to whose benefit he acted. It was strange how familiar his actions felt.

His fingers tightened in the case of the second pillow as he climbed to the top bunk and settled it into place. "Oh, Misaki," he rumbled dimly to himself. "The things I do for you…"

A flushed grin found Neirah's face as she lowered her eyes to her PDA screen, and she plucked away on the keys as she casually walked down the hall. Her ears perked to the sound of a startled yelp a couple of rooms down as someone clamoured through sleep, and she paused as the ellipse announcing Gin's reply to her message constructed. She glanced down at her mobile as his response came in almost instantly.

**To Okazaki. G at 12:42 a.m.:**_ Are you still awake? _

**To Okazaki. G at 12:42 a.m.:**_ Fushimi-san is being moody and won't help me study. _

**To Okazaki. G at 12:43 a.m.:**_ Do you think you could spare a minute? _

**From Okazaki. G at 12:44 a.m.:**_ Hey! Ya of course im up! but where do u want to meet?_

Neirah sniggered devilishly as her fingers tapped on the illuminated screen. By the sound of the noises, it was clear that he roomed just down the hall from Saruhiko, and when she checked the door beside her labelled with a nameplate stating the contents, it made him easier to locate.

**To Okazaki. G at 12:45 a.m.:**_ How about your place?_

The ellipse lasted for a long time as she waited for his next reply. It would stop for a few moments, and then mark that he was retyping his response. It made her stifle a giggle. She thought it was pretty much a yes or no question.

**From Okazaki. G at 12:52 a.m.:**_ is that even allowed? _

HOMRA's assassin ignored his concern as she pulled up next to the room marked with his name, a devious smile on her face. When she saw that his nameplate was single like Saruhiko's, she contemplated knocking with a wicked grin on her face, but then responded to his message instead. Better safe than sorry. She could hear him receive it on the other side of the door.

**To Okazaki. G at 12:52 a.m.:**_ Who is your roommate?_

**From Okazaki. G at 12:53 a.m.:**_ ah, well no one right now, but dōmyōji-kun, is visiting why? _

**From Okazaki. G at 12:54 a.m.:**_ wait a sec, how did you know we had roommates? _

Neirah could hardly contain her sinister beam as she tucked her mobile away and inhaled a deep breath on the other side of the door. "Well, this should be entertaining."

* * *

"Ikusen mono koosasuru michi de bokura wa deaetta, hashagi attari, fuzakeatari shita ano hi, katari akashita yume no asa ashidori mo karuku-"

"Massugu na manazashi de- eh?" From where the bathroom door was wide open, the sound of splashing water filled Tatara's ears. When Neirah flopped over against the tub ledge with her hair piled on top of her head, she glowered at the open doorway like she could see him from where she sat. "Tat-chan, why did you stop!?" Her cheeks puffed with a bitter pout as she sank deeply into her bathwater. "You can't just stop for no good reason."

Tatara sat on the floor with his guitar in his lap, and he smiled playfully before turning his notebook page. "But it _was_ for a good reason. I got to hear Nei-chan sing on her own."

Neirah lowered her face against the basin until she could blow bubbles in the water. "How embarrassing."

"Why?" Tatara calmly interjected from their shared living space. "You have a pretty voice. I think that you sing it better than I do!"

In her bath, Neirah balled her fist and struck the water's surface with a clumsy splash. "Sacrilege!" she commanded. "Tat-chan has the voice of ten thousand angels!"

"Wow, that many, huh?" He scratched at his lip sheepishly before returning to his notes. "Actually, I'm pretty close to being done. Now I just have to get up the nerve to play it for everyone." The distance between them seemed to be quiet for a long time before he spoke again. "Hey, I don't suppose-"

"Not on your life, pretty boy."

Tatara groaned and dropped his head with an exhausted sigh. "Ah, Nei-chan is a fine flower with many thorns," he grumbled. He flipped through a couple more pages, strumming out parts of his song that he needed to polish. Neirah hummed a couple of times, but he didn't catch her singing along with him again. Then, when he found a set that he was mainly focused on, he lingered on that section of his notebook and instigated elsewhere.

"Say, Nei-chan?"

"Not singing for King-sama."

Tatara groaned. "So much for being in this together," he sassed under his breath. "Actually, I was wondering where you went tonight. I messaged Kusanagi-san to ask if he knew, and he didn't. You were gone for a pretty long time." He startled to the sound of thumping commotion filtering through the steam that made his heart palpitate. "Ah, are you alright in there? You're not drowning, are you?"

"H-hah… sorry, Tat-chan," she rattled out nervously. "I was rinsing my hair."

Tatara's brow incredulously knotted as he hit a sour note. "But I thought you tied your hair up?"

"Nowhere," she corrected swiftly. "I was nowhere. I just went for a walk to get some fresh air. Which is somewhere, but nowhere of particular interest."

With a gentle chortle, Tatara returned to his strings with a knowing smile. "You wouldn't have happened to run into Fushimi-san on this walk, would you?"

Complete silence followed.

"H-how did you… know that?"

After cocking a brow, Tatara picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages. "Ah, it might have been the threatening message I received warning me that if I didn't get my roommate under control, there would be trouble."

The silence extended for another long moment before the rustling of water sounded in the apartment again. "He didn't just say _trouble_, did he?"

"No, he was quite specific."

Neirah groaned and flopped back into her bath with a gentle sigh. "Fine, you win. I went to see Fushimi-san," she murmured. "Please don't tell Yata. He's pretty sensitive over the whole thing."

"Well, of course, he is," Tatara sassed. "They were best friends, after all. Just how would you react if I up and left?"

Silence.

"You'd probably kill me."

Neirah sighed her understanding surrender. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to mind my own business and not try to bring them back together?" When the silence returned on his end, her expression flattened. "What am I saying? I'm talking to you. You are the _king_ of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Eh? I don't know how fair that is…"

"That's being generous." Neirah sighed and stepped out of her bath. Releasing the pins in her bun, she let her hair spiral down around her shoulders with the shake of her head. "No matter, though. I promised myself that I wouldn't interfere. I don't have time to worry about these things with all this homework piling up." Their lives had been full of action recently, and despite how relaxed Neirah felt when she completed her scented soak, she still regretted that she would spend her Sunday playing catch-up.

She sighed blissfully and turned to retrieve her towel when she realized that there hadn't been one available. "Bah, I could have sworn that I had a towel in here," she whined. "It's too cold for this nonsense. Tat-chan! Close your eyes. I forgot to bring a towel into the bath with me again."

_Eh?_ He hummed casual curiosity from where he sat in the middle of the room just outside the door. "I could grab you one if you'd like."

His breathing hitched nervously in his throat as Neirah stepped into the room stark naked, as promised, and a part of him expected that her warning would have given him a grace period. Then, to make matters worse, she was checking to make sure he wasn't peeking, which he was blatantly exceeding in expectation. It caused their eyes to lock, and both forms to stiffen. "O-oh… you meant… right now," he choked out apprehensively. "S-sorry."

Neirah sighed and dropped her chin towards her collar, where she kept her arms folded modestly over her chest. "Well, it can't be helped," she groaned. "This wouldn't be the first time I've scared you for life."

"I wish you wouldn't say those things…"

Neirah startled, shifting slightly to make sure her hands covered as much of her glistening bust as possible. "I-I'm sorry?"

There wasn't so much as a sheepish flush in Tatara's cheeks as he locked his eyes with hers as sternly as he could muster. "I noticed it the other night too. What you said to Awashima-san on that rooftop," he reminded her dryly. "You told her that pretty girls were boring. You said it like you held her to a higher standard."

Surprisingly, the immodest brunette's cheeks were the ones to flush as the damp ends of her hair tickled her accentuated HOMRA brand. "That was just-"

"Nei-chan is beautiful." Even as Neirah startled to Tatara's sound and sincere compliment, he didn't shy away from her current state. "Sometimes, I get angry that I'm the only one who seems to appreciate that."

Neirah whimpered softly, watching his solemn expression drop to return to the strings he was plucking. Typically, being exposed wouldn't bother her, but she hadn't expected such a sober reaction out of her previously cheerful companion.

She slowly backed away from his post and darted into her room to grab a towel, fixing it around her torso before poking her head back into their living space. She watched him for another long moment before she finally slunk out into his presence to sate her curiosity. "Tat-chan?" she delicately pried. "W-what… what did you mean by that?"

This time, Tatara kept his eyes lowered as he flipped through his notebook, a meek smile brightening his previously melancholy expression. "King and I happened to visit Maki-chan the other day when we were out and about," he murmured. He knew that she was guilty from the moment he'd spoken the condemning announcement, but he humoured her anyway. "She said that you're afraid to look for love because of me."

Because Neirah tucked her towel around her front, she was able to reach both hands into her hair and wring her roots. "Kamiya-san misunderstands!" she shouted. "It's not-!" When she caught the despairing look in Tatara's distracted eyes, her heart began to ache, and she lowered her voice to a tender croon. "It's not… like she says…"

After sighing softly to calm his nerves, Tatara tipped his gaze towards her prying gaze. When he realized how heartbroken she looked, he offered her an affectionately reassuring smile for comfort. "I don't want you to feel like things will change if you find someone special," he admitted frankly. "I _want_ you to find love. I want you to be loved…"

She wasn't encouraged by his gentle sentiment, so she defiantly crawled across the floor and draped herself over his lap in place of his guitar. "I already have all the love I could ever need," she pouted defiantly.

Surrendering to his needy roommate, Tatara let a bashful smile curl his lips as he set his guitar to the side with one hand, raising his second to stroke her damp hair over her shoulders. "You say that, but there are different kinds of love, you know. Some of them might be even better than this."

Neirah rebelliously shook her head without raising her chin from his thigh. "When Tat-chan finds different love, I will too," she promised. "Until then, this is all I need. Steamy baths and roommate snuggles."

A gentle laugh caught in his throat. "If you say so," he teased. "But if that's the case, then maybe you can tell me which one of us-"

"I already told you. I have no time," Neirah moaned. "I refuse to indulge your twisted fantasies."

"I still think it was Kamamoto."

"Kamiya-san says that Ri-chan and I can't date."

"But, of course," he teased. "Because you're not forty yet."

"Thirty!"

"Can you make me a promise then?"

Neirah gently rolled over in his lap, nuzzling his palm out of the way when her head turned into its casual stroke.

When she turned, he met her loving curiosity with a kind smile. "If it ever happens, promise me you'll let it," he teased half-heartedly. "I don't want to feel like I'm the reason you might miss out on something that could really change your life."

Neirah shuddered, clutching his pants between her hands as she reburied her flushed face against his lap with a defiant growl. "Too serious. Tat-chan is having too mature a conversation for me to handle right now." For some reason, at that moment, Maki's comment about kissing filled her mind again and caused her to whine in an attempt to chase out the images as her face burned hotter. "Ahh, too mature. Too mature! Kamiya-san's version of kissing is too mature."

A somewhat sinister chuckle emitted from behind Tatara's knowing smile as he took a chance at prying into the dark places her mind was taking her. "It might not be so embarrassing if you weren't thinking of doing it with-"

"NAHHH! Don't say anymore!" She pulled back onto her knees and covered her ears. "No! That's not what I'm thinking about! That's not- _H-haaahhh_…"

"So, do you have a preference over which Kamamoto you kiss?"

Neirah's burning gaze collided with his as she stubbornly scrutinized his certainty. With a low and somewhat reserved growl, she swatted playfully at his insistence. "It's not Ri-chan I'm thinking about!" While she was slapping him, the knot in her towel came loose, and the fluffy material whispered down around her sitting hips. She froze, a little humiliated to be so openly exposed, but Tatara didn't seem interested in her full naked front.

"… So, you _are_ thinking about someone."

"Tat-chaaan!"


	39. Klutz

**Klutz**

* * *

_**November 26th, 2010 10:15 pm**_

"Finally!" Neirah closed her eyes and threw her hands in the air with an excited cheer. "It's been so long since we visited! I wonder what Ōta-san is going to make for us today?" Her mind raced with the possibilities, but as the chilly winter air rushed around her between buildings, she had a craving for warm soup. When she opened her eyes, she lowered her arms and dusted her fingers against the graffiti decorating the structure next to her, tracing the bright explosion of colour.

But Jūrō wouldn't let vagrant hoodlums desecrate the building for his cornerstone tattoo parlour. The tribal twist of flames and rose vines skillfully decorated the partition between rice bowls with Jūrō's level of skill, because he made the paintings with his own hands. With how the street side adorned the splash of creativity, someone might think that the building was home to a romantic, spicy ramen restaurant. The truth was that Jūrō didn't sell his cooking on the side. He reserved that particular talent for his dearest friends.

A rumbling laugh joined Neirah's choir from where Rikio was lengthening his stride to catch up with the woman. "He knows we're comin'," he teased. "Surely, it'll be katsudon."

Neirah dropped her hand limply by her hip. She turned to face Rikio from where she approached the corner that would lead them to the entrance of their friend's business that also doubled as Jūrō's home. "Ah, but I wanted tonkotsu ramen," she whined with a delicate pout. "Remember last time when we had katsukarē?"

After watching Neirah wipe her mouth on her jacket cuff like she might have been drooling, Rikio's laugh escalated until it filled the night around them. "Well, if he knows we're coming, he'll definitely make chashu."

"And way too much," she sang. "As usual."

When Rikio looked down at her beaming expression, his darkened as if she'd just insulted his very existence. "Too much for _who_?"

"You're right." Neirah's cheeks flooded with warmth as she patted her grumbling tummy. "I suppose it's fine because Ri-chan will eat anything that I can't, right?"

"And don't you forget it!"

An excited squeal caught behind her lips, making it sound like she was a boiled kettle with the way she whistled her anticipation. "I'm starving! Let's gooo!"

Even cautiously, Rikio reached out to her with a fond grin on his face. "Nē-chan, don't rush ahead." When she stopped to pout, he sniggered and tugged her back to his side by the collar of her jacket. "You know better. Ōta-san still spends a lot of time with the Yakuza, and some of them might recognize us if we're not careful." After releasing her, his expression humbled with kind consideration. "Kusanagi-san doesn't even like that we come around here, but he's sort of right. It wouldn't be very nice of us to cause trouble for our friend with all he does for us."

Neirah's sigh was full of surrender when she considered his sound advice. "My past always comes back to haunt me," she mewled submissively. "Why can't I just be a normal schoolgirl?" Her gentle coo sounded to the feeling of Rikio's warm palm on the top of her head, and she tilted so she could raise her eyes to his.

"Because if you were a normal schoolgirl, you'd have much better things to do than hang around with me."

Neirah's smile grew wavy with affection. "On second thought, I think normal is overrated..."

Suddenly, an affronted grunt interrupted Rikio's warm smile, and he laid out his palm, turning to look into the sky that had just begun to spit on them. "Rain? Hey, that's cold!"

Neirah winced like the icy droplet to fall on her next caused her pain. "How rude. We were having a moment." Despite her irritable tone, Neirah returned her grin towards her friend to beg his invitation. "Can we rush _now_?"

_Ah…_ Rikio gave her a reassuring nod, encouraging their pace to quicken with the steady increase in rainfall. "I'll be right behind you."

At the command of his assurance, they picked up their pace to a light jog, and sure enough, Rikio kept close to Neirah's heels. Though, it became entirely inconvenient when she rounded the corner and ground to a sudden stop. Rikio immediately hollowed his centre, his arms to either side of him to support his balance as he attempted to dodge her roadblock. "Nē-chan? Why'd you stop all of a sudden-"

It didn't take him long to understand why she'd been staggered when he peeked the intensity of her expression, and when he turned to face the road ahead, his heart stalled his breaths. "W-wait-!? What the hell happened here?!"

Neirah lurched forward, mortified ferocity tightening her face as she rushed to Jūrō's storefront to the sight of the metal sheet he lowered at closing peeled back like it was paper. As observed on the walls and smeared against the floor beneath the shoes of Jūrō's attacker, a dusting of blood stained the linoleum. "Ōta-san!" Neirah's worried screech echoed in the street when she stared through the doorway, catching the sight of their motionless companion bloodied on the floor in the dim streetlight.

"Neirah, stay back," Rikio commanded. He laid his arm firmly across her chest like a toll gate until she bounced off his restriction. "You'll cut yourself."

"Rikio, if anyone can navigate broken glass and jagged sheet metal, it's the tiny dancer!" she passionately refuted.

"No!" She wasn't wrong, so Rikio had to adjust his story in attempts to keep his friend from harm. If Jūrō's attacker were still in the building, it would be easier to keep Neirah safe if he stood between the monster and the maiden. The last thing he wanted to see was Neirah caught in a dark constricted corner, especially because she was still a little claustrophobic at times. He turned his kind eyes towards her frantic worry, desperation in his stern expression as he begged her cooperation. "If whatever did this is still around, you'll have a better chance of fighting them if you can use your chain."

Neirah seemed reluctant, at first, as wide eyes locked with his insistence, but she had to appreciate her friend's reliability. When she acted eccentric, he managed to keep her somewhat rooted. Sometimes reality skewed, and it was hard to keep track of, but Rikio was a tender reminder that they weren't invincible. She couldn't just burn through life like she once thought.

Once Neirah had yielded, Rikio rushed through the opening, careful not to slice himself on the sharp metal edges of the decimated sheet. "Oh man, this is bad." He dropped to Jūrō's side and checked his pulse in the dim parlour, delighting in the feeling of a gentle beat beneath his fingertips. "Hah?! He's still breathing!" After wrapping his arms around Jūrō's mass, Rikio heaved the man onto his front, relieving Neirah outside when Jūrō began to hack for breath. "Ōta-san, hey. It's me, Kamamoto."

Neirah startled outside to the sound of Jūrō's bitter hiss.

"Ahh, you kids are late," Jūrō rumbled through a haggard cough. "The pork's getting cold, y' know."

Rikio flinched, continuing to support the bloody man beginning to sputter to life in his arms. "How can you talk about pork looking like this!?"

"That comin' from you?" Jūrō let out a rumbling belly-laugh. "I'm disappointed, boy."

After huffing a sigh of relief in the doorway, Neirah let a worried smile warm her expression. Jūrō's size and sheer resilience were how he'd managed to keep in tight with many local gangs without feeling threatened, which was what made him such a reliable informant. All the lonely man ever asked in return was for someone to pop by and share a meal with him now and then.

Neirah vaguely heard Rikio begin to interrogate their friend in hopes of figuring out who managed to wound him, but when she opened her eyes next, she was answering his questions. With a curious twist, Neirah's incredulous leer followed the bloody footprints out of the storefront, and up the metal siding of the building. Her livid scowl intensified again at the top when she caught the sight of a shadow moving swiftly among the rooftops, and her blood began to boil.

Rikio let out a startled bark the moment the opening at the front of the store combusted in a sudden burst of flame, and his first instinct was to tighten his defence around Jūrō's broken body. "Eh?! Neirah! What's wrong?!"

"Stay with Ōta-san!" she commanded through bared teeth. "I think I found the person responsible for this!"

Rikio freed one hand to reach for her, but he was careful not to drop his friend onto the hard floor. "Just wait! I'll come with you!" But before he could finish his reassuring proclamation, she was gone.

"Foolish girl," Jūrō choked out through a mild smirk. "The noodles're gonna get soggy."

"Ōta-san, please be serious!"

Neirah's vision focussed on a damp night around her, watching her brilliance reflect in the puddles forming beneath her feet. She swiftly climbed into the rooftops, her eyes locked on the lean shadow weaving on top of the structures. _'It must be a Strain,'_ she thought upon withdrawing her chain from her hips. She began to boil the links, rushing tactlessly towards the escaping spectre. _'I don't know of many_ _Yakuza members who are capable of walking up walls!'_

When she was within range of the retreating shape, her eyes flashed with the ferocity of her king's flame, and she launched her kunai towards the shadowy target. "Hey now," she hollered fervently. "Why don't you stay for dinner?!"

Once her ignited links neared the body, the ringing of steel was far from satisfying. She watched her chain coil, tangling up in a withdrawn sabre to neutralize her approach. From behind the light of her flames flirting with a royal surge of cobalt, navy eyes scrutinized her impatiently with a dull lustre beneath saturated raven bangs.

_Tsk._ With a firm jerk, Saruhiko tore the cable through the surprised woman's fingers and dismissed the bulky mass by his side to free up his sword. "As awful as that sounds, some of us are working." He raked tense fingers through the part in his hair to keep it tidy even as the rain worked to contradict his efforts. It was clear that Neirah didn't care. She let the deluge drag her wild mop into her face. So long as her eyes didn't obstruct, she was content. It was typical for the likes of her.

"Fushimi-san?" Neirah took a step forward, skeptical as she straightened to regain some sense of civility. "What are you doing out here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" It frustrated him when she didn't answer, staring vacantly at him like she wasn't aware that there was a dangerous Strain on the loose. He turned away from her inquiry and irritably sheathed his sword. The memories she was surfacing made his teeth mill, and his heart race. What he wanted to know was whether or not she was doing it on purpose. He found it hard to tell sometimes. "You idiot, didn't you hear me the first time? I said I'm working."

Neirah's gaze sharpened impatiently. "So then, what attacked Ōta-san must be a Strain."

"Where did you leave your _friend_?" he instigated dryly. "It's unusual to see you here without him attached to your hip."

Neirah's nose wiggled as her humid breath fogged her face in the cold air tearing through the rooftops. Surely he wasn't talking about Tatara. She didn't spend _every_ waking hour with the man. "Kamamoto-kun is back at the shop with Ōta-san," she assured him strictly. "I told him to stay there while I hunted down the attacker."

"And I suppose that's where he'll stay," Saruhiko theorized through his exasperation. "Like a good dog."

"My you're unusually wound tonight," she sassed. "It couldn't be because you're working alone. Maybe it's because this Strain is giving you the slip?" She sardonically smiled when he threw his head to one side with a bitter hiss. "I might not mind being of assistance if you ask me nicely."

"Keep dreaming."

Neirah's heart fluttered with fond memories as she closed her eyes and hummed her delight. "Ah, and my dreams are so much sweeter with you in them, Fushimi-san."

"If you're done-"

"Oh, I'm just getting started."

Neirah's startled shriek was shrill when a sudden shadow approached their conversation, scattering them to either side when a dismantled crane shaft crashed into the rooftop where they'd conversed moments prior. With a nervous whine, Neirah tumbled forward, springing off her fingertips and dropping back onto her feet at a safe distance. Before raising her voice to grate on her colleague's nerves, she scanned the area to make sure he was safe. Luckily, his senses were just as sharp as hers, and he had fled to higher ground.

"What the hell?" Saruhiko lowered his arm from his face, scrutinizing the mess made of the building's ventilation system beneath the severed construction equipment. "It just came out of nowhere."

Neirah threw her head over her shoulder just in time to catch the sight of an additional phantom scampering between structures. She had seen something similar in the world of Strains, but the last time large pieces of construction equipment were being tossed her way, it was because Tomaya was throwing a tantrum. "There you are…" She powered off her mark, clattering across the damp rooftop until she could dip and reclaim her chained kunai from where Saruhiko had disarmed her. After drawing the mass across the floor with a musical rattle, she coiled the shackles in the air and returned them to their proper place in preparation for combat. "You're not getting away."

"Don't get involved," Saruhiko thundered from where he rushed by her side. "This is SCEPTRE4's job."

Neirah didn't even cast him a glance as they raced each other on top of the wet ceiling. "I'm not stopping you from doing your job," she ordered. "If you want to chase after him too, then be my guest."

"You don't have the authority to prosecute him."

Neirah's wild eyes brightened, crimson sparks making her reflective sapphire gaze flash indigo. "I'm not going to prosecute him," she admonished. "I'm going to bleed him dry for what he did to my friend!"

Saruhiko's lethal glower tapered as she pulled ahead, her garnet aura surging from her delicate frame as she splashed through the puddles forming at their feet. His teeth ground as his fingers wrung the life from the hilt of his sword that he unsheathed with a delicate ring. "You sound just like him!"

Neirah was the first one to hone in on their combined target, her flaming chain reflecting on the glassy surface of his terrified eyes as she twirled it. "Stop running!" she hollered irately. Just as her weapon darted for his exposed skin, he let out a worrisome holler and covered his head. She was about to be satisfied with the feeling of her encroaching victory, but that was when her hot links clumsily disobeyed her command, opposing their intended trajectory and slicing through a radio tower instead. Neirah gasped and retracted her disobedient cobra, leaping out from under the shadow of her approaching misstep.

She sighed her relief, overseeing the collapse of the grate her chain sliced through like warm butter. There was a doubtful crease in her furrowed brow, but she didn't have any other way to explain the accident. "Oops, that was clumsy."

Saruhiko avoided her jolt of attention as he pulled ahead, his disenchanted leer locking on his prey. "This is why you should leave these things to the professionals." He crossed his chest with his free arm, dropping his sword to his side as he ripped his armed knuckles through the night to send his darts sailing towards their target. Again, their young enemy startled meekly and threw his arm out like he was going to stop Saruhiko's glowing azure knives with his palm.

The moment Saruhiko prepared to collect his wounded target, another crash echoed in the space between them. He hissed when the projectiles struck an unexpected roadblock in the form of collapsing satellite supports, leaving the free darts to rattle in the dish neutralizing their threat. He snapped his attention towards Neirah's advance, bitterly barking his agitated command. "Would you stay out of this! This doesn't concern you!" It infuriated him that she was so intent on getting in his way.

Before passing the collapsed mounts, Neirah leapt into the upturned dome and slipped into the centre, gliding with the curve like she was banking in a wave barrel. She touched the floor of the large dish and scooped up his knives on passing. To escape the bowl, she then leapt into an aerial somersault and pitched two of them his way, to which he skillfully received one in each hand. By the time her heels thumped against the ground to give chase, she had twirled and launched his last blade towards his race to catch up. "Fushimi-san! I think this Strain can manipulate metal!"

"What?" he hissed breathlessly from behind. "Are you sure you're not just a klutz?"

Neirah was too enraged to be annoyed by his sarcastic dig. "When Rikio and I found Ōta-san, there were bloody footprints climbing up the wall."

Saruhiko let his dubious gaze linger on his unexpected partner that evening before his scrutiny shot towards their desperate target. "He's like a human magnet."

"It's going to make it hard for either of us to fight with our weapons," she reasoned. "But if I can get in close, there's nothing he can do to stop my flames."

Saruhiko's fierce gaze immediately returned to her agile sprint. "Don't be stupid! I already told you-"

"Just let me help you!"

_Tsk._ Saruhiko's molars snapped as he tried desperately to keep up with her. When it came to athleticism and martial ability, Neirah would always excel far beyond what he was capable of accomplishing. She was fast, she was powerful, and she burned just as brightly as her king. It was infuriating. "Just cut it out," he growled under his breath. He didn't need help. He didn't need anybody's help, not hers, not Mikoto's- He dropped his head, spitting his words out in a sudden rush of breath. "Just stay out of my way!"

Neirah startled to his sudden intensity, her softening eyes turning to face where he continued to reject her, but that was nothing new. It made her wonder how he was doing on his own. Did he make any friends? Did he miss the way things used to be? She never instigated his deeper ire, poking fun with him over trivial matters instead, and leaving her curiosity unsatisfied.

She didn't have long to dwell on her disappointment when their prey suddenly immobilized, turning to face them both with breathless wheezes rushing from his heaving chest as he threw out both of his hands towards them.

Neirah's body tensed with uncertainty. "He just stopped…"

"What now?" Saruhiko growled.

"L-leave me alone!"

Neirah's eyes widened as the boy began to buckle the support beams of a vast mobile communications tower. The properties of the metal looked altered because she never thought she would see something so disturbing as steel cracking like dry timber.

"This brat," Saruhiko grated. "At this rate, he's going to blackout the entire block."

But in his effort to exhaust one final push to cripple their pursuit, Neirah noticed the way his deep focus blinded him to their approach. The boy likely thought that they would be too distracted by the structure's collapse to advance. "Fushimi-san! I'm pushing through!"

"What!?"

Neirah ground her teeth, igniting her body as she made her attempt to outrun the collapse of steel at her back. Their target looked weak, so if she could get one good strike in, there was a chance she could knock him unconscious and return the use of their weapons. Unfortunately, before she could launch off the building, the final support gave way and sent the beams rushing towards the rooftop like they were under pressure. She was almost ready to make her leap when she noticed how quickly the antenna shadow darkened on approach.

With an exasperated cry of frustration, she surrendered her original tangent. She dove forward, popped off her fingers and landed on the slippery fire escape to the sight of the brace that continued to buckle like discarded paper. "What an unbelievable power," she bitterly marvelled.

"Tsukiyo! Pay attention!"

Neirah jostled herself back into the moment when she felt the fire escape wobble, and soon, her wild eyes were darting towards their exhausted target. With a bitter growl, she spun on her heels and prepared to launch.

Unfortunately, as she spun, she felt the spike of her heel slip clumsily into the rattling grate at her feet, and when her right foot prepared to shove off her perch with all of its force, she felt as sickening snap in her ankle that caused her entire leg to burn.

Saruhiko flinched to the sound of her heatedly indignant yelp, and when he darted his eyes towards the sight of her hesitating, his heart sank. He watched with wide eyes as the grate jostled, tipping the unsteady woman from its mouth. He waited for a second or two, anticipating the sight of her chain launching, her body weaving, anything to deny that she was falling. But by the time the third second passed, he knew she was in trouble. "What the hell are you waiting for?!"

Neirah watched the skyline shrink, and her teeth clenched as the boiling throb in her leg intensified every time she shifted in an attempted recovery. "No," she whimpered nervously. "How did I let this happen?" She closed her eyes, putting all her faith in her friend that she commanded to stay by Jūrō's side. For just a moment before she struck the ground, she had to believe Rikio would pull off another dramatic rescue and save her from breaking all the bones in her body. _'It's fine, it's fine,'_ she repeated in her flustered mind. Soon, her worry escalated and forced a rushed cry from behind her trembling lips. "Everything will work out!"

The rush of breath racing from her lungs was crippling and caused her to cough as she struck his protective embrace, and grateful tears stung the backs of her eyes as she sealed them tight. She choked the pain down in her burning throat behind her relieved smile. "Ri-chan, I'm so glad you didn't-"

_Tsk._

Neirah's heart palpitated when she heard the bitter click utter next to her protected crown, and moments after, her bewildered eyes were swinging to face where Saruhiko was glaring bitterly towards the rooftops. "F-Fushimi-san…?"

"I told you he was a dog," he snapped. "Don't just go around relying on other people all the time. You're going to end up dead." And she couldn't die, certainly not while he was around.

"I-I'm sorry-?" Neirah whimpered in pain as he dropped her from his supportive embrace against the street, and just as she was about to complain that he could have been gentler, she saw the rush of the crumpled fire escape plummeting towards them.

Her eyes shone with respectful admiration as he steamed a fistful of throwing darts in one hand with remnants of his red aura, his sword a bright cerulean beacon in the night as he calmly resisted their threat. By the time he released the knives, they had sliced through the thin gating to weaken the slab, and by the time the frame crashed around them, he was able to strike the centre free with a burst of his cobalt aura.

Saruhiko stood in the centre of the slab he'd hollowed out, panting with what he wanted to claim was fury. "You idiot…" he growled under his breath. He whirled to face her with a livid scowl knotting his face. "Just what the hell were you-!?"

He froze, startled by the impact of her tender smile. She didn't say anything, didn't sass him for actually caring, or saving her, nothing. She just smiled, and her eyes did the rest. He quickly diverted his gaze, sheathing his sword in a frustrated frenzy. "Can you stand?"

Neirah tried to brush off his concern, scoffing lightly to deride his interest. "Oh please, we weren't that high-" The arrogant woman's tone broke around the sounds of her soft squeal, but before she could collapse back onto the street, Saruhiko was lurching towards her fumble.

"That answers that question," he rumbled irritably. "Sit down. You're not going anywhere."

"But-!"

He wasn't gentle when he forced her onto the ground where she could rest stably. "How long has Yata been telling you to quit wearing these stupid shoes?" he firmly reprimanded. He jerked the ivory knee-high from her dainty foot and peeled the sock away despite her stifled moans. Sure enough, when he revealed her skin to the gentle rainfall, her skin was already discolouring. He heaved an exasperated sigh and flopped his wrist against his one raised knee, letting her tiny sock dangle from defeated fingers. "This is just great."

"Go."

Saruhiko flinched, turning to face her command with an analytical furrow in his brow. "What?"

"Go after him before he gets too far ahead." Despite the troubled and somewhat solemn crease in her brow, she still offered him a supportive grin. "This is your job now, right? Not looking after _'friends'_ or anything so ridiculous."

Saruhiko climbed to his feet, overseeing her as she withheld the need to let her eyes water. He carefully considered the situation and realized that the Strain they were chasing was likely running out of strength. Together, they'd managed to burn him out, and by the time Saruhiko tracked him down again, he probably wouldn't have much fight left.

With a derisive snort, he turned away from her and clutched his collar, speaking into the communication device mounted on his shirt. "This is Fushimi," he rumbled dully. "I'm going to need a medical unit, stat. I'm sending the location as we speak."

When he raised his eyes from his work to face her again, her smile was wavering with humiliation. Her pride was one of her most significant weaknesses. She was always embarrassed to be seen as weak, unaware that there wasn't a single soul around who didn't know that she could be more durable than anyone else he knew.

With a disappointed sigh, he carelessly tossed her sock into her lap. "You'd better be here when they show up," he cautioned her. The last thing he needed was his leniency wasting their precious time. "HOMRA's informant should be on his way to the hospital as we speak. I called for him before I ever gave chase."

Neirah caught her sock, interested in returning it to her cold foot until she tried to curl her toes and almost caused her stomach to heave. "Don't worry about me," she forced in a wavering tone. "Even if my loyal _dog_ has to carry me there, you know my injuries won't go untreated."

Saruhiko scoffed. "You've got them right where you want them, don't you?" he whispered. Without saying a word, Neirah smiled and gently knocked her knuckles against her chest. The very notion caused Saruhiko's insides to twist before he turned away from the site entirely.

A mild whimper sounded as she watched Saruhiko depart, leaving her in the cold, quiet street alone. She took a deep breath, giving him another moment to disappear before she let out a piercing and agonized screech.

* * *

"Hey! Watch it!"

Izumo recoiled, sheepishly holding up his hand as he crossed through the white hospital walls behind a stampeding Misaki. "So sorry about that," he clamoured apologetically. It wasn't the first person Misaki had thrown to the side to navigate the halls, but Izumo was beginning to grow irritable with his riled subordinate. He hadn't left his bar in Masaomi's care only to end up in jail for aggravated assault. With his long reach, Izumo snapped his fingers around Misaki's sweater collar, jerking him back to the sound of the boy's startled gag. "Alright, Yata. Settle down. You're acting like a wild animal, for crying out loud."

The youthful vanguard threw his disapproving scowl over his shoulder and glared at his captor. "How can you say that, Kusanagi-san! Tsukiyo's hurt! We gotta be there to-"

"To what, Yata-chan?" Izumo mildly corrected. He released the sheepish boy to continue his scolding. "What's done is done. We're just here to bring her home." He slipped one hand in his jacket pocket as the other retrieved a note from the reception desk. "There's nobody to be mad at this time. No need for revenge. Accidents happen, so unless you wanna go beat the snot outta the ground, it's not worth you gettin' all fired up."

"Damn it!" Misaki hissed and kicked out a stray supply cart. "I told her a million times that those shoes were no good! I knew that this was gonna happen!" With a low growl, Misaki clenched his fist and promised that the revenge he sought would sate on her classy white high-heeled boots.

"Yeah, I think we all had a pretty good idea," Izumo rumbled calmly. "Ah, here we are." He crumpled the note in his palm after referencing the piece of paper he'd received from the receptionist. Not wanting to keep the clutter, he subtly ignited the parchment in his palm until nothing remained when he opened his fingers. "Our girl should be just on the other side of this door."

Misaki stiffened, one eye twitching as he focussed his attention on a room service cart parked just outside Neirah's accommodations. His tone immediately flattened as he threw his finger out towards the sight of a beautiful blue and violet flower arrangement resting on top.

"Oh, flowers, would you look at that," Izumo sang. "I wonder if Kamamoto picked them up before he went to visit Ōta-san."

Misaki's blood began to boil when he considered the sapphire ribbon and the way the SCEPTRE4 crest bound it around the bouquet. "No way," he milled out lividly. "That son-of-a- Monkey!" His sudden roar erupted in the quiet hall, making ordinary civilians gasp as he grabbed the flowers and started shaking their petals free, beating the naked stems off walls as he vented his fury. "The next time I see him, I'm gonna wring his fucking neck!"

With a casual sigh, Izumo threw open the door and exposed Neirah's room to the sight of Misaki's irrational rampage. "We're here," he sang. "Lucky you…"

"Ah, I'll call you back, Ri-chan. Onii-san's here to pick me up.

Yep.

Okay. We'll see you back at base then." Neirah's bright gaze immediately shot from her disconnecting phone towards where Izumo had joined her. "Kusanagi-san, welcome!"

Izumo settled, ignoring Misaki's profanities filtering through the entryway to the sound of nervous civilians. "Heard you got the x-rays back. By the looks of that ugly boot on your leg-"

Neirah interrupted him with a musical sigh. "It looks like Yata was right," she surrendered in high spirits. "But, at least it was my ankle and not my neck."

A relieved smile brightened his lax expression. "You can say that again," he jeered.

"I just got off the phone with Ri-chan," she announced happily. "Ōta-san is going to make a full recovery. Okazaki says that SCEPTRE4 has the Strain in their custody now, and it turns out that he was just looking for somewhere to stay when Ōta-san startled him into self-defence." She lowered her remorseful smile with a gentle sigh. "I probably made things worse when I went after him, but I was so angry that I didn't care if he was afraid."

"Yeah, well, he wouldn't be the first," Izumo pestered her fondly. "Do you remember what Yata was like the night you two met?"

Neirah couldn't help but snigger deviously to the recollection. "How could I forget?" she whispered. It wasn't easy when she kept actively comparing their states of progression. "But that's okay. I told Anna-chan once that I don't mind being feared if it means protecting the people closest to me. For that, I will gladly play the monster."

Izumo flashed her an understanding smile. "You ready to get out of here, kid?"

Just as Neirah parted her lips, she heard the sudden whooshing of flame, and moments later, the smoke alarms in the recovery ward began to chime. _A-ah…_

Izumo closed his eyes, his smile fading as he listened to the sound of Misaki cursing the activating sprinkler system. "Yata-chan was worried, so I let him come along."

Gentle giggling livened Neirah's flushed expression as she beamed at her superior. "I bet you feel foolish."

_Hm._ Returning a smile in force, Izumo folded one arm at his waist and gave the woman a playful bow. "Your chariot awaits, Mademoiselle."

Neirah accepted his offered hand, allowing him to steady her as she fought to stabilize her crutch. "This is so awkward," she moaned. "And they want me to use two of these?"

"In tandem," he sassed. "Hey, Yata!" Izumo turned his head over his shoulder to face the doorway just in time to catch Misaki scampering into view, adjusting his hat on his soaking head. "Make yourself useful and come help her."

Misaki seemed startled to consider that he had a purpose other than to beat revenge out of inanimate objects. "O-oh, right!"

Izumo rolled his eyes, listening to the sound of Misaki trying to banish the evidence of arson in the hall. "That kid," he grumbled. "The moment Fushimi's in the mix, it's like trying to tame the tide."

"Let him be, Onii-san," she whispered. "It's not an easy thing."

"And you?" he instigated. "I heard he was there tonight."

_Shh,_ she hushed. Neirah's cheeks flooded with colour to recall his dedication to her preservation that night, and it caused a bashful smile to warm her tired expression. "Fushimi-san and I are still friends. What happened doesn't bother me like it does Yata."

"S-sorry!" Misaki stammered nervously upon rushing through the entry towards Neirah's bedside. "Ah, shit… Y-you really busted it good, huh?" When he settled by her side, he looked towards Izumo and then towards where Neirah anticipated his aid. Misaki's arms came out at the same time as his cheeks ignited with embarrassment to be so near to the woman. "L-like this?"

Neirah could feel Misaki shudder when she suddenly burst into laughter for no apparent reason. "No, ow, ow. This is too much!" she bayed. "Put me down, put me down."

Izumo cocked a brow at her hysterics as she wiped whimsical tears from her eyes. "Something funny?"

"Wow, yes," she corrected sarcastically. She pointed towards Izumo with the devious cocking of one brow. "When you were trying to figure out who to bring along, you couldn't have grabbed King-sama or Wolf-kun?" It was clear that Izumo was having a hard time following her train of thought, so she quickly informed them of her discovery by throwing her finger towards Misaki. "You're not even remotely close to the same height."

Realization struck and caused Izumo to hum fondly with his entertainment. "Right, that would make things awkward, wouldn't it?" He peeked around the doorway and watched the janitor proceed to mop up the mess the sprinklers made of the hallway. "And you should probably watch your step out there, so you don't end up breakin' your other foot."

"Here."

Misaki flinched when Neirah reached out and tapped the back of her fingers against his arm, and he shuddered like the gentle effort was a threat. "Y-yeah?"

Neirah's brow skeptically creased. "Why so meek all of a sudden?" she cooed with curiosity. "I thought we were past this?" When he didn't do any more than divert his gaze, Neirah laughed lightly to consider her situation. "Don't worry. You can say it if you want to."

Misaki turned his anxious inquiry her way and sized up her circumstance. "S-say what?"

She leaned forward and pressured his recollection with a cunning smirk. "_I told you so_?"

He supposed that was as good an excuse as any as he twisted up his defiant pout around his bitter snort. "Well, I did…"

"Yeah, you did," she whispered. When she climbed to her feet, Misaki rushed to her command, weaving himself beneath her shoulder no matter how unnerving it was to be so close to her heaving HOMRA brand. "Kusanagi-san, if you wouldn't mind managing doors, I think Yata and I can handle the rest."

Izumo smiled at the pair fondly, recalling a time where they could hardly stand to be in the same room as one another. "Cute," he murmured. When the pair tilted their synchronized enquiry his way, he flashed them a mischievous smirk. "When you take your heels off, you're actually quite a bit shorter than Yata, aren't you?"

Neirah tipped her observation towards where Misaki was doing his best to look anywhere _but_ where she observed him, and it made her smile. Before she could tease him, though, she slipped her PDA from her pocket and scrolled through her messages to flash a particular image towards the pair. "Oh, before we leave, I don't suppose reception mentioned anything about flowers, did they?" She could feel Misaki tense beneath her arm as he supported her, which caused her scrutiny to shift return to him. "Gin said he sent some over, but-"

She was startled by the sound of Izumo trying to stifle his laughter, which made it sputter out in a muffled snort. "What's so funny?" she cooed.

Izumo straightened and tried to regain his composure. "Let's just say, no petals, no stems, no thorns. HOMRA doesn't leave ashes, remember?"

Neirah turned her curiosity towards where Misaki began to groan sheepishly by her side.

"I uh… I thought Fushimi brought them for you…"

The janitor outside the room was grumbling about how ignorant the day's youth was, but even she could admit that something endearing sounded with the laughter that filled the hallways when the friends gathered within the room. They seemed to have that effect on most people. Still, it wasn't nearly as endearing to the shadow lurking at the end of the hall watching Misaki struggle to keep the woman against his support upright as she hobbled next to where Izumo carried her crutches for her. Instead of appreciating the strength of their bonds, he raised his fingers to his collar and gave his defiled brand an anxious scratch.

_Tsk._


	40. Kombucha

**Kombucha**

* * *

_**December 13th, 2010 6:45 pm**_

Misaki's vision was far from focussed as he wove through the pedestrians clogging up the sidewalk. Sometimes he'd pop down from the curbstone. Other times he'd perform reflexive acrobatic maneuvers that he assumed some people might consider impressive by how they gasped. It wasn't something he could appreciate, but when he saw a gathering of flirtatious young women chattering in the cold about his skills, his bashful blush made it into his feet to trip him up. Soon, he was taking a tumble across the cold ground and moaning his shameful discomfort.

His fluster intensified as he rubbed his aching elbow, praying that the contents of his bag had survived the tumble as he picked up his board. With how the girls clamoured, he supposed they were waiting for some sort of smooth introduction about their beauty distracting him, but he was far from in the mood to entertain that possibility. After sheepishly diverting his eyes, his mild murmur barely escaped his chilled lips as he huffed out a humid breath in the cold December air. "E-excuse me…" With his disappointing address, he parted their curiosity and flopped the board back onto the concrete, rushing to catch up to it.

When he did, he popped onto its centre and let his thoughts impulsively meander with his feet again. It was getting pretty close to the deadline, but he'd wanted to hold out until the bitter end, just in case Saruhiko wanted to come home. That was why he'd left the door unlocked, even sometimes when he wasn't at home. He knew how Saruhiko could be, and the slightest of inconveniences could tick him off. Misaki never wanted to be an inconvenience. But the unfortunate truth was that the bills upkeeping the place just weren't manageable alone. The slightest inclination crossed his mind that maybe Rikio would be interested in bunking with him, but that notion ended quickly.

Rikio had just moved into a lovely new single on his own, and from what anyone could tell, he was comfortable. But the real deterrent was the thought of Saruhiko finally coming home to an unlocked apartment with Rikio eating a bag of chips in, what used to be, his bed. That thought made Misaki shake his head to dismiss. If anything turned Saruhiko away forever, it would be that. Besides, if Saruhiko wanted to find his holdout friend, it wouldn't be hard. Even if the blue clansman was too proud to use a phone to get in touch, Misaki wasn't hard to pin down. He spent most of his time at HOMRA anyways, so it shouldn't have made a difference.

Still, tears stung the backs of his eyes as he skated through the city, raising his forearm to his face to wipe his running nose that he blamed entirely on the nip in the air. They had a lot of fond memories in those four cold walls that they made a home. There was that time that they stayed up for twenty-six hours straight because Misaki had accidentally overheard rumours of the building turning up haunted. Or, there was that other day when the two of them found an old kotatsu in the trash, which they brought home and revived. Then, there was another when he fell through the ceiling right into Saruhiko's calculated reassurance when Misaki finally found out how Neirah had been sneaking into their apartment.

The hollow clatter of nylon wheels began to slow, and suddenly, they stopped altogether, causing Misaki to kick up the nose of his skateboard across the street from a familiar bar. When he thought about it, there were very few days that he and Saruhiko spent much in the way of time at home, but there were many memories he had of their lives there where Neirah was present too. He tucked his board under his free arm, wringing the surface with the consideration. The only reason Misaki had the skateboard in his hand was that he'd lost his old one the night he rescued Neirah from Tomaya. The last fond memory he had of their vacated home was of Neirah, stumbling around like a fool trying to learn how to do what came so naturally to him.

_Tsk…_ Misaki's jaw began to ache with tension as he bitterly acknowledged the stray tears leaking over his face. For whatever reason, Saruhiko meant as much to her as he did to Misaki, and that still baffled him, but what infuriated him most was Saruhiko's complete disregard for the woman's attempts at befriending him. It almost seemed like Saruhiko programmed himself to have one friend at a time, and maybe that should have comforted Misaki that he was the chosen one, but it didn't. Even if he ignored the fact that it could very well mean that someone else had taken their place, his temperament soon turned sour to the memories of Neirah's visit.

Maybe there was a time where Misaki thought that all Neirah cared about was spending time with Saruhiko. Because of their complicated relationship, Misaki and Neirah never typically had much to say to each other, but something changed that day. She visited knowing full well that Saruhiko was gone, and she stayed for the sole purpose of bringing a smile to a face that almost forgot how.

Suddenly, Misaki coughed, hacking on the sentiment rushing vocally past his lips as his tears drowned the laugh that he haggardly choked out. He could still remember how utterly absurd she looked scooting into the wall. Saruhiko probably would have snorted and walked away, but that wouldn't have stopped her from just being herself. Just like she would continually pry her way through every barrier he put up only to find a place in his story, but that didn't mean that she wasn't still a part of Misaki's. Maybe they weren't entirely on the same page yet, but they were starting to catch up. That was how he knew to remember what remained essential; keeping those goofy things that his friends did to make him smile close to his heart. His world turning didn't stop just because a small piece was missing. It couldn't. Too many people relied on him for him to act so selfishly. He understood that now.

He was startled by the frosty chill of a stray snowflake touching the tip of his nose, and after looking into the dark sky, he realized that it wasn't the only one. With a disgruntled snarl, Misaki quickly wiped his face, adjusting his shoulder bag with a bitter shrug. Heating costs weren't his problem anymore, and neither was an insensitive bastard like Saruhiko. As far as he was concerned, if he couldn't appreciate the memories of the smiles they made together, then that was his problem.

Abandoning the heartache where that small piece of his world crumbled from beneath him, to begin with, he bounded across the street towards home.

"Would you stop moving around?!" Rikio begged. "I said I'd get it for you! Just let me help!"

"Nao!" Neirah nearly shrieked. "I have to maintain my independence! Relying on men all the time is bad for a woman's pride!"

Rikio tore his hands through his hair with an aggravated moan. "Man, you sound _just_ like him!"

Every step that Neirah hobbled clicked as her crutches met the hardwood, and slowly, she made her way towards the bar where her requested tea sat cooling. "Well, one of us has to maintain a consistent level of irrationality, or it's just not home!" She could have cried when she finally made it to the bar, sorting her crutches out so that she could reach her hot beverage, and just as her fingers were about to make contact, Mikoto was dropping his palm over the rising steam. Neirah felt bitter tears sting her eyes as her rude king slid the offering to the other end of his long reach, which felt like miles to her throbbing foot. "K-King-sama is so cruel."

"Ah! King, that was mean!" Tatara chided defensively. "Nei-chan is working really hard not to need our help, and then you go and do something like that."

Mikoto shrugged despite Neirah flopping over his lap, trying to reach the brew without having to hobble around him. "She can do better." He ironically considered himself her encouragement to persevere.

"Is this because I call you King-sama?!" she whined. "Because if so, I could think of a couple of other things to call you right now!"

"That's enough, you two." Izumo snatched Neirah's tea away from Mikoto despite his displeased grunt and set it on the other side of the bar out of his reach. Then, once Neirah had straightened herself out of her king's lap, the supportive bartender offered the frantic woman his arm for balance. "And you shouldn't test her, Mikoto. You know that she'll remember this once that boot of hers comes off, and I can think of a couple of places she's gonna wanna stuff it when that day comes." His heart warmed as she huddled over her warm tea, Rikio's sweater engulfing her tiny fingers as she clasped her prize between her hands.

One last thing came to mind before her victory sip, and just before she tasted triumph, she turned and stuck her tongue out at her mighty leader. Mikoto wasn't looking from where his entertained smirk touched his stumpy glassware, but Anna's curious eyes absorbed every second of her sister's boldness. "Well, at least that attitude of yours is just as healthy as its ever been," Izumo hummed.

_Hm?_ Izumo's bright expression shot towards the storefront with a sympathetic smile when he watched Misaki step inside the front door. "Yata-chan, you just missed Hop-along's daunting trek against all odds to obtain the sacred tea of green leaves."

Misaki didn't seem nearly as amused as the others breaking into a humble choir of sniggers. "What, did that stupid wolf steal her crutches again? I swear, I dunno why she doesn't just beat 'im with it."

The bartender's knowing expression softened with notes of concern to take Misaki's irritability into account. "No, Bandō's not here tonight," he casually announced. "Haven't seen him since yesterday."

Misaki snorted briskly. "Good." After setting a plastic bag on the centre of a table and dropping his packsack to the floor, he rummaged the contents. "She'll probably get better sooner without him around."

"My, my, you're in quite the mood," Izumo sassed. "Come on, Yata-chan. You know Neirah likes havin' him around. Even if he is a pain."

When he comprehended that his demeanour was likely still sour from thoughts his clan had no prior knowledge too, Misaki sighed and pulled out his intended target from the cheap plastic bag. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he conceded. "He could still be a little more considerate if you asked me. It's not like she _wants_ to limp around with those damn sticks all the time."

Softening his tone, Izumo diverted their conversation under his breath. "Did you manage to get the last of your things?"

"Yeah… I did." A downtrodden expression stared at the sight of the bottle in his hand, and as badly as he wanted to clench his fingers, he figured it wouldn't do him any good to crush it. It was hard for him to calm his nerves, though, when he could only read half of the writing on the label. For whatever reason, there was a little shop just down the street from his old apartment that used to sell all sorts of specialty beverages and some foreign like the brand of kombucha drink in his hand. It was something sold pretty exclusively in certain parts of Japan, and for whatever reason, Neirah had taken a shining to it. Then again, he figured that she was pretty open to all types of tea-anything, but that was just Neirah. The part that frustrated him about the beverage was that it came sold right next to one of the sodas he'd found just especially for Saruhiko.

Despite the feeling of Izumo's gaze following him intently, Misaki passed through the bar and made his way to Neirah's side. She didn't turn to face him, which gave him a moment to consider his offering. Soon, a light dusting of pink flooded his cheeks as he gently nudged her shoulder with the bottle. "Hey, I'm back, Tsukiyo," he interrupted timidly. "And I kinda got you somethin' while I was out."

Neirah gently lowered her face from her cup, connecting their gazes with a soft tut on her lips. She peeked his offering, but he figured it didn't matter if it were a candy bar or a diamond necklace, she was going to say the same thing. "Yata, you didn't have to do that."

As expected, his blush intensified when he all but shoved the can between them to erect a barrier against the sentiment spilling from expressive eyes that he still hated. "I-I know. B-but I w-wanted to, okay? You're not feelin' great, and I know you like 'em."

Neirah's once-playful spirits shifted as she accepted the bottle of fermented tea, noticing how warm his fingers were when hers dusted against them. His shy attitude always had a habit of raising the temperature in his entire body. "Thank you…"

Misaki quickly jerked his hand away almost as soon as she had secured her gift, his guilty appendage shooting towards his nape. "I-it should be good and cold," he assured her awkwardly. "It's cold as hell out there."

Neirah set the drink between them, realizing that even if she rejected the offer, the damage was already done. "I really appreciate this," she nearly whispered. "I know it isn't easy."

When Misaki comprehended that his mood was bringing the injured woman down, he was quick to try and change his tune. "Whoa, hey, Tsukiyo, don't talk like that." Through his smile, his tone was gentle as he tried to get her attention after he'd just let her chase his eyes downcast. "It's just tea, and I know you like these ones. But they're on the other side of town and seein' as I'm not gonna-" To be honest, he should have started with not knowing if anywhere else in town stocked the import. But for whatever reason, he didn't. "Look, don't worry about me, okay? It's not like I'm gonna end up on the streets or nothin' for one tea drink thing."

"That's right," Izumo interrupted soundly. "I already told Yata-chan he could stay here while he's figurin' things out. There's no sense in him keepin' a place of his own when he spends most of his time here anyway. Totsuka and I already cleaned out the back room, so he'll be crashin' here for a while."

It was difficult for Neirah to preserve a positive attitude despite the situation having nothing to do with her. That was one thing that always hurt her when it came to Misaki. As brash as he could be, he was selfless. He honestly gave himself entirely and loved unconditionally. HOMRA meant more to him than anything, and Saruhiko knew that. Still, Neirah felt that it was wrong of Saruhiko to play the villain just to make Misaki's decision easier because Misaki loved him too.

"You're right. I'm sorry." A sheepish smile curled her lips as she reconnected their eyes, the scarcely exposed tips of her fingers returning the bottle he'd gifted her. "Could you open it for me? This kind hisses when I open it, and it always startles me. The last thing I want to do is drop it when you went out of your way to bring it back for me."

Misaki diverted his shamefaced glower and kindly received her suggestion. "What, now your fingers 're broken too?"

The moment Misaki cracked the cap off, Neirah's shriek was shrill to the sound of the carbonation hissing and spewing tea-flavoured foam between them. That probably startled Misaki more than the actual fizzing. Luckily, Misaki didn't drop it, but he slammed it down on the bar hard enough to threaten its original form as he cursed his intolerance. "Shit! That's right. I dropped it on the way here."

"Ah… now I'm tea-flavoured…" Neirah's whine was quiet as she flopped her vanishing paws to either side of her to observe the damage. "Which might not be as bad if it didn't take me twenty-three minutes every time I wanted to change pants…"

Misaki couldn't help but meet her smile with the sheepishly sly grin he revealed once he'd dragged his sleeve across his face to mop up the mess. "Don't say those things while Chitose's around. He'd probably ask to do it for you."

She was a little startled by Misaki's sudden burst of perversion, but quickly clutched her belly as she began to laugh her cheeks rosy. "You're right! I better watch what I say, or Onii-chan might put him on crutches too."

"Wow, it's almost like missed opportunities summon him," Izumo drawled casually nearby. "And it's been a while since he's had the balls to bring a woman back with him."

_Hm?_ Misaki and Neirah simultaneously turned to the same face full of breasts charging their way, and luckily, Misaki had enough forethought to lunge for the kombucha before the woman's half-exposed bustline knocked their salvaged beverage onto the floor.

"Tsuki-chaaan~!"

Neirah yelped in agony as she was mounted and nearly suffocated by the jasmine-scented woman to leap into her arms. After sparing her peripherals a glance, she noticed that Misaki had his front halfway flopped over the rosewood with her drink in hand. When he gave her a reassuring thumbs-up, she redirected her gaze to where loose violet tresses tickled her face. "Y-Yashi-san?"

"_Yashi_?" Izumo instigated. "Then that means-"

Yō's smirk was devious as he leaned outside the door to tap his ashes into the street before pinching his light between smirking teeth. "Sorry we're so late, but Yashi-chan's train didn't get in 'til just an hour ago, and I don't think anyone's fed her for a week by the way she was eating."

Suddenly, Neirah's face turned sour, and she started to beat the woman out of her lap. "_Excuse. me_!" she howled. "Why am I just finding out that you're back in Tokyo-? And from _Chitose_ none-the-less!"

Asuka didn't seem concerned with Neirah's wrath as she playfully picked at the baggy sweater sleeves hiding her friend's athletic frame. "Oh, this _must_ be Rikio's," she theorized. "That looks so warm right now. I should have brought Hirota-kun's sweaters with me instead of this strappy nonsense." She snapped her dress strap under the observation of her displeased pout, unaware of how appreciative Yō was of such _nonsense_. "It's freezing outside! Did you know-"

Izumo recoiled nearby to the sound of Asuka's sudden shriek.

"Tsuki-chan!? What happened to your leg?!" The energetic woman quickly whirled her incredulous leer towards where Yō hadn't come any closer, as if by design. "Chitose-kun, why didn't you tell me my Tsuki-chan was hurt!?"

Yō remained casual despite Asuka's livid accusation. "Yashi-chan? Nē-chan's legs are the last thing on my mind when we're messaging."

"You're awful!" the girls replied in tandem. To this, Yō simply shrugged.

Asuka gently cupped Neirah's hands in hers to help steady her friend, a worrisome look on her face as she shifted cautiously against the wounded brunette. "I'm sorry, Tsuki-chan. I wanted to surprise you," she reasoned. "How long have you been like this?"

"Unimportant!" Neirah snapped through a pained groan. She shifted uneasily, allowing Izumo to help steady her as she threw her weight into the finger that she tossed Yō's way. "What I want to know is why you had Chitose pick you up at the train. Not only that, but you also showed up here with Chitose, after having dinner with _Chitose_?!"

Asuka seemed curious as she attempted to read the sincerity in Neirah's unimpressed scowling, not entirely sure if her friend was soundly agitated.

Neirah seemed like she needed a minute to catch her breath, her head spinning to consider what she was seeing. "H-how long has this been going on?"

"What? Nothing's going on," she sang spiritedly, much to Yō's apparent dismay. "Chitose-kun and I have been talking since you exchanged our numbers, so when I said I was heading back to Tokyo sometime around the winter break, he said he'd show me Shizume's nightlife."

Neirah turned her lethal stare towards the doorway, freezing Yō in his place as her burning glower pierced him. "Chitose-kun? Run."

"Neirah, calm down and drink your tea," Izumo scolded tenderly. "How about you concern yourself less about Chitose's inevitable maiming and more about introducing us to your friend that we've heard so much about." Out of the corner of his eye, Izumo caught the sight of Mikoto strategically retreating with Anna in tow. "And just where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here," Mikoto grumbled dryly. "Too noisy."

"Mikoto, it's almost Anna's bedtime."

Under Izumo's reasonable instigation, Mikoto tilted his head to observe the affectionate glistening of soft garnet irises, and without an ounce of empathy, he spoke. "Stay."

To which Anna gently shook her head, latching herself onto Mikoto's belt loops like a permanent fixture. "I want to go." Telling the young Strain 'no' wasn't an option for much of anyone in the disreputable clan, even their mighty king.

"Says she wants to," Mikoto refuted with a lazy shrug. Izumo was left to take that as a sign that even the notorious Red Monster couldn't deny those eyes. "Can't say as I blame her."

Asuka's scorn was quick to light up the bar between them upon their intended trajectory. "Well, then you can just _take_ your royal ass elsewhere. See if I care."

Neirah's choked squeak accompanied a conglomerate of other mortified expressions when Mikoto stopped walking. Before Asuka could speak again, Neirah was reaching up to tug on her friend's shirt sleeve. "Yashi-san… that's my king."

In response, Asuka squealed, muffling her dull groan behind both palms as she perspired. "M-my bad…"

Yō tried not to let it get to him when Mikoto dropped his palm on the boy's shoulder upon passing, his disapproval noted in his gruff warning. "You picked a real winner this time."

"T-thanks…" Yō prattled out feebly.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Neirah slowly straightened, affectively quieting after she accepted Asuka's arrival. "Did Hirota-san not come with you? I thought he was going to make the trip this time?"

To the very mention, Asuka threw her nose into the air with a rude snort. "Hirota-kun and I are fighting right now," she grated.

Neirah tried to make light of the situation as she continued to sip her tea through her smile. "Did he not lend you his slash your favourite sweater for the trip?" She couldn't think of many other reasons why Asuka dressed so skimpily if she so passionately claimed that she and Yō weren't an item. "Or rather, did he catch you stealing it this time?"

Suddenly, Asuka's once enthusiastic expression began to fade. "Not exactly," she groaned. "See, remember how I told you that we planned on moving to Tokyo together for college?"

An understanding melancholy washed over Neirah's face as she quietly returned her cup to its saucer. "He doesn't want to attend college in Tokyo anymore, does he?"

Comprehending that too many people lingered to be discussing such thing, Asuka turned a pleasant smile towards the bartender and smacked her palm against the rosewood. "This is a bar, isn't it?" she sassed. "How about some drinks to lighten the mood?"

When Yō started to rush towards the scene, Neirah's humour faded. "Yashi-san, I thought you were going to try and stop drinking so much?" she meddled.

"And I have!" Asuka dynamically defended. "But this is a special occasion. It's okay to have fun sometimes."

"A-ah Yashi-chan?" Yō mumbled anxiously. "I thought we were going to go out tonight?"

"Psh, we were going to go drinking anyway," she teased. "This is a bar. We can drink here, right, Bartender-san?"

Izumo offered the spirited woman a casual shrug. "I can't see why not. If I turned down anyone who stepped in looking for a drink, I wouldn't be runnin' much of a business, would I?"

Asuka seemed delighted as she patted Neirah on the shoulders repeatedly, progressively beating the woman forward with her enthusiasm. "And my friend too," she reasoned. "I know it's still a couple of months until she's legal, but I think we can make an exception for a special occasion. Well, and she's in pain, too." If he wanted more reasons, she would surely find them and more at the bottom of her first round.

A faint smile curled Neirah's lips as her wandering gaze peeked where a fleeing Misaki had abandoned her beverage. "Yashi-san, you and Chitose-kun should go out and spend time together," she reasoned soundly. "We can catch up tomorrow whenever you drag yourself out of bed." She shuffled out of her seat, hopping around some before managing to retrieve her crutches. "I'm not up for anything crazy tonight anyway. My ankle's been bothering me."

Asuka's pout was distinguished as she clawed meekly at Neirah's sweater. "But Tsuki-chaaan, I've missed you."

A gentle pat found Asuka's flat plum hair, stroking the silky strands with Neirah's affection. "Don't worry, we'll have lots of time to catch up," she reassured her kindly. "And I promise I'll introduce you to everyone. But this is the first time you and Chitose-kun have met in person, right?" Regardless of Asuka's apparent distress, Neirah's kind smile didn't fade. "Go enjoy yourself. We can talk about Hirota-san later. Is your hotel nearby? Maybe I could come to visit you there for a little exercise-" Neirah's expression immediately flattened when she heard Yō's guilty shuffling behind her synchronize with Asuka's sheepish blush. "_Welp_, at least I know where to find you."

Asuka stood up to meet Neirah's departure and gave the woman a squishy hug. "I'm sorry, Tsuki-chan. I really did miss you. I promise that after tonight, I'm all yours."

Jasmine was a pleasant scent on the woman's collar, or that's what Neirah appreciated most as she nuzzled into Asuka's shoulder. "Stay safe," she murmured. "This is probably going to sound weird out of context, but just stay close to Chitose-kun. I promise he'll look after you."

A delighted cheer sounded in the bar as Asuka floated through the room towards the front entryway. "Tsuki-chan worries too much! Life is a party, and everyone's invited!"

Neirah's smile faltered with hints of her exhaustion as she watched Asuka scoot out the door like she wasn't two years older than the hobbling homebody she left behind. Moments after the lively beauty bounded out into the street, Yō was chasing after her, but not before his hands met Neirah's shoulders, his whisper against her ear in passing.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure if that comforted her or not. It was true that Yō and Asuka were close to her heart, but she didn't ever see them together. Their personalities were too alike and a little toxic. Neither of them could take relationships seriously, and she would go so far as to say life was a game to Asuka, but she was still young. Neirah could appreciate that some people needed more than a frosty bottle of fermented tea to warm their weary spirits.

After watching her friends depart, Neirah tucked her right arm around a single crutch, using its leg to replace the one she haphazardly dragged beneath her. She made her way carefully towards the bar, picked up her drink, and then began to hobble towards the back of the establishment with a casual warning to Izumo on her lips. "Onii-chan, don't you dare say that I never do anything for you."

Izumo's smooth laughter lit up his post from behind the classy countertop. "Come on. She can't be that bad."

"I actually feel bad for Chitose this time."

The reflection almost made Izumo cringe. "Wow, that _is_ bad."

Upon rising from his seat, Tatara rushed to where Neirah was vacating their presence entirely. "Nei-chan, where are you going? Do you want me to help?"

"Tat-chan, if I wanted help, I wouldn't have battled King-sama for a cup of tea," she reasoned begrudgingly. "Don't worry. I'm doing okay so far."

Tatara and Izumo flinched together when the unsteady woman wobbled, sacrificing comfort to try and keep her drink from spilling. "Sure," Izumo muttered dryly. "But, where are you off to?"

"I'm going to see if Yata needs help unpacking."

A strange feeling washed over Izumo the moment he heard the determined woman murmur the casual retort. He watched her shift unsteadily with the drink Misaki had bought for her tight in her grip, and then he turned his furrowed consideration towards Tatara. "This is still weird," he stated rhetorically. "Seein' them get along is strange, isn't it?"

As brightly as his smile ever displayed, Tatara shrugged his shoulders in surrender. "Kusanagi-san, it's already been two years, or pretty close to it," he reasoned. "You didn't really think that Yata-chan was going to hate her forever, did you?"

Izumo spat out a sudden upward rush of breath that disturbed his bangs. "Damn, has it been that long? It seems like just yesterday we were draggin' her out of some dark alleyway."

"That was three years ago!" Tatara sang.

There was a solemn hum in Izumo's tone as he finally watched Neirah disappear. "Where is the time going?" It seemed like just yesterday that she was running through the streets like a maniac, a week ago, Misaki was hiding behind Saruhiko from her evil stare. And Izumo was almost positive that it hadn't been more than a month since he, Mikoto and Tatara got the crazy idea in their heads that HOMRA was going to be more than a bar. "Watchin' these kids grow up right in front of my eyes is puttin' it all into perspective."

"Nei-chan is right," Tatara teased. "When you talk like that, you sound like an old man."

"Yeah, oh well," Izumo surrendered fondly. "Not much we can do about that either, I suppose."

* * *

The sound of clickity racket startled Misaki from where he'd been unpacking his bag. He was starting to find some kind of dysfunctional organizational structure for his belongings in the spacious room that he would enlist for the foreseeable future. But soon, he was stuffing his contents back into place and turning his eyes towards the doorway. For a moment, he just stared, absently dabbing at his brow where his black toque usually sat. It made him feel a little bare not to have it on when Neirah poked her head into his space, like seeing him without had become somewhat intimate.

"Sorry," Neirah panted through a weak smile. "I'd knock, but my hands really are full this time."

Pushing his embarrassment aside, Misaki stumbled to his feet and made his way to the entryway. "Oi, what the hell 're you doin' Tsukiyo?" he scolded. "Where's your other crutch? You're gonna break your damn neck limpin' around like that."

Neirah rolled her eyes as Misaki steadied her drink, guiltlessly hobbling into his new abode with both arms clutching her insufficient walking aid. She hadn't sufficiently healed quite enough to be putting any pressure on the fractured joint. "Oh, please," she scorned. "First, it was my shoes, and now it's my crutches. You must think I'm danger-prone."

He oversaw her, making sure she didn't trip on any of the assorted half-empty boxes he left strewn about the area. "What's wrong with not wanting you to have a broken neck?" he feistily refuted. "That's why when I see you doin' stupid things, I say somethin'."

_And didn't she know it?_ A hefty sigh of relief shot through Neirah's entirety as she collapsed onto the futon, laying her crutch on the floor by her feet. "Ah, sweet gushy soft-eek!"

"H-hah!? Tsukiyo, a-are you okay?!"

Neirah groaned from where she'd leaned back, expecting the couch back to stop her from falling. "I forgot that this couch pulled out," she murmured defeatedly. "I suppose you'll be using it for your bed."

He knew that she didn't intend to depress him, but his heart grew significantly heavier as he diverted his eyes and offered her his free hand. "Yeah, I guess so." Once she was upright, he gently passed her the drink he'd spared her collapse. "That crazy chick's gone now?"

Finally, Neirah tasted the uniquely fizzing flavour of his thoughtful offering. "Mn, yes. I just don't have the energy to keep up with her right now, so I thought I'd stumble back here to see if you wanted a hand unpacking."

Wry cocking of his eyebrows complimented his dry smirk when he turned to face her again. "Really? You're usin' me to hide from your friend? That's a pretty crappy thing to do, don't cha think?"

A casual flap of Neirah's hand dismissed his concern. "It's a long story, and honestly, I was doing my family a favour by sending her away," she teased. "That girl can get pretty wild when alcohol is involved. Chitose-kun is going to have his hands full, for sure." A dull groan muffled behind the top of her bottle as her voice echoed into the naturally carbonated beverage below. "But not too full, I hope."

_Family_. It was the way she said it so casually. He supposed that he considered HOMRA family too, and maybe even from the start. He was a little reluctant to have an older sister, but that seemed to wear off as time progressed, leaving them a rather comfortable unit that could almost be considered domestic. But he supposed that comfort and sense of belonging weren't good enough for _some_ of them. The mere thought made him snort derisively. Still, he wondered if there was ever a time where Saruhiko considered them family.

"You know, I have some kombu leftover at home from when Tat-chan and I made dashi. I should make my own konbucha."

Misaki turned his once-distracted gaze towards the sight of Neirah scrutinizing the writing on her can. "Wait, is it really the same thing?"

Neirah didn't mean to startle their vanguard so suddenly when she snorted her laughter. "Not even a little," she sassed spiritedly. "You might even like this kind. I feel like it just tastes like soda."

"I don't know," he speculated apprehensively. "It says on the bottle that there's shit livin' in there, and that creeps me out."

Neirah's nose wrinkled as she returned her gaze to her drink, giving it another thorough scan before snorting her surrender. "Hah, so it does," she piqued whimsically.

Despite his depression, Misaki couldn't keep his smile from returning. "You just drink the shit because it says there's tea in it, don't you?"

"It's called being open-minded," she reasoned. After scooching down the futon, she kindly offered the bottle towards Misaki. "Here, just try a sip."

"Nope, I think I'm gonna pass," he confidently denied. "You keep your creepy living tea thingy."

"Quit being so fussy!"

Misaki's humour instantly drained as he lingered on her words, remembering a time where he used to repeat them frequently to his ex-roommate. He must have stayed silent for long enough for Neirah to understand where his mind had wandered because not long after, she was interrupting a second time in a demoralized tone.

"I did it again, didn't I?" Her head bowed with a remorseful blush warming her cheeks, her wrist gently swirling the sediment from the bottom of her retracted offer. "I always do this. I visit to try to keep your mind off of everything, but I end up just making it worse." Her mild smile began to fade as she let her thoughts betray her. "But maybe that's because… I miss him too."

She could feel the pressure of Misaki's bewilderment resting on her fidgeting hands, so she wrapped what was visible of her fingertips around the bottle she toted. She hadn't openly taken the time to admit that to him before. "When everything is the same for so long, and it suddenly changes, nothing feels right. It seems like, no matter what you do, it manages to remind you about that person who was such a big part of that life you knew. I can't imagine what that must be like for you."

And there it was. Misaki felt the weight in his chest until it was sinking him to the floor on his folded legs. The silence overtook them for a moment, both of them losing heart to their wandering thoughts. No matter what way he spun it, or how Neirah tried to save face, she was suffering too. Maybe it wasn't as bad for the rest of their clan, but something about the way she could understand his pain offered an uncanny level of comfort. He supposed that was the power of empathy.

"Tat-chan told me once that memories only last if we cherish and protect them," she reasoned soundly. "You keep the ones alive that make you smile and forget the ones that make you sad. So maybe if we forget the things that hurt us, we can still smile like we did when that person was still here." She knew it would be hard for Misaki to accept her theory when his heart was still fragile, but she felt like he was trying to do something similar on his own. When anyone else pried, he became angry or outright violent, but something about her seemed to get him to speak soundly about the betrayal. With that hope in mind, she prayed that he would forgive her for trying to make light of his circumstance.

"H-Hey," he interrupted apprehensively. "If you, y' know, ever wanna talk about that guy…"

Relief swelled in her chest, and her hands finally stopped shaking as she raised her glassy sapphire gaze to where he'd bravely opened his heart to her. "I bet if Fushimi-san were here when Kobayashi showed up, he would have been pretty irritated." Her smile was meek for a moment as she watched the tension continue to wring in Misaki's fists, and she was waiting for the moment when it snapped or faded.

Not long after Neirah spoke the words, Misaki's clammy palms were relaxing, his heart racing to imagine what it would have been like if Saruhiko ended up introduced to the obnoxious woman. "He… would probably click his tongue at her and get her in trouble for being so damn loud."

_Tsk._

Misaki turned his shaky half-smile towards where Neirah tried to mimic the effort, her expressive eyes hidden to keep him from seeing the heartache that he knew was lingering.

"Y-yeah…" he surrendered with a gentle laugh. "Just like that…"

* * *

_**Somewhere across town…**_

Saruhiko stared at the mess that was made of the little shop that night, its stock laying in complete ruin after he'd finally managed to subdue the Strain responsible. What began as a petty robbery turned the street side into a warzone that evening, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

"Wow, it was pretty lucky that you were in the area when this all went down. I don't know where we would've been without you."

Saruhiko heard the voice, but he didn't do much more than grunt his acknowledgement as he mentally logged notes for the report that he would have to file upon returning to base. His boots sloshed around the mess as he stepped through broken glass, leading him to where the store's coolers lay demolished.

It was really too bad. That shop just down the road from the place Saruhiko used to live sold a type of mild-flavoured soda that he was particularly fond of from the start. Misaki used to bring it home for him on occasion when he ran out for groceries, but the shop was relatively expensive with its pricing. Back then, when money was tight, he used to reprimand Misaki for wasting their funds so frivolously, but then again, it was one of the best-tasting beverages he'd ever had. But Misaki never seemed to care how much something was to cost if it brought somebody happiness. He'd always been irresponsibly selfless like that.

Looking at the bottle in his hand now seemed like a distant memory, and forced him to divert his eyes with a heavy sigh. After losing himself in the recollection long enough for his mood to dampen, Saruhiko returned his attention towards the shop tender. "Do you mind if I take this?"

The middle-aged man's smile was broad and welcoming as he clutched his rattled wife safely in his arms. "After the way you saved us from that scary fellow, of course, you can!"

Saruhiko had considered playing the request off as evidence, but he was equally acceptant of a gratuitous act. "Thank you…"

"You know, it's funny," the business owner murmured in curious consideration. "I don't usually sell a lot of that type, but that's the second one to leave the shelf today."

Saruhiko's eyes returned to the bottle, his tone flattening to hide notes of any other emotion that might sneak through as he held onto the memory for just a little longer. "Is it now?"

He startled suddenly to the sight of a white blur popping into his peripherals, his heart rate jumping before he finally realized that it was snow. His posture slackened slowly, his sharp blue eyes looking up into the nighttime skyscape behind the fog of his breath. Then slowly, he retracted his tense fingers from the hilt of his sheathed sabre. _'Oh, it's just snow.'_


	41. Kink

**Kink**

* * *

_**January 15th, 2011**_

"You know, Seri-chan, we have to stop meeting up like this.

Why? Well, is it really good for our relationship?

H-hah… ice-cold, as always." Fading into his comprehension, Izumo heard muffled pattering rushing towards him. When he caught the sight of Neirah's sporty updo bolting through his peripherals, he quickly reached out to seize the retreating woman's collar. "Oh no you don't.

No, not you Seri. It's-" Izumo lowered his apologetic voice. "Sorry. I'll call you back." After disconnecting the line, Izumo's expression hardened like his grip on the fidgety woman. "Nice try, Neirah," he growled. "You think just because you changed your shoes, I wouldn't notice you trying to sneak off?"

"Onii-chaaan!" Neirah threw her head back with a distressed whine and stamped her feet in a brooding fit. "I've been hobbling for over a month, forced to watch everybody else tramp around all over the place. Now that that confounded boot is off, I'm going out to run!"

"Yeah, they took it off," Izumo pestered sternly. "And I was there when she told you to take it easy for the first couple weeks. Come on, Neirah, you're an athlete. You know better than to just jump right into the main event after sitting on the sidelines for so long."

"You're making it worse!" she roared. "I am _not_ a benchwarmer! I'm a team player, and my team needs meee!"

A faint groan rattled in Izumo's throat as he raised his free hand towards his aching ear. "Damn, you sure are worked up today," he droned. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You get cabin fever easily, don't you?" When a series of unintelligible sounds ranging from hisses to squeals replied, he figured she wasn't in the mood to discuss something like logic. "Look, the last thing you should be worrying about is our frontline. Yata-chan's got that pretty much covered."

Suddenly, Neirah spun in Izumo's grip, throwing her finger towards where Misaki was resting with his feet on a table nearby. "_You_! This is all your fault!" she raved. "Stop being efficient! The rest of us need to work too!" It irritated her even further to consider that Misaki did no more than open one eye to glare her way as she vented, his arms still folded casually behind his head.

"Don't get all bent outta shape 'cause you went and busted up your foot," Misaki warned. He flopped forward in his seat, dropping his arms between his knees as he cocked a brow towards her outrage. "In case you forgot, I was the one that warned you that was gonna happen, but no, you just had to wear those stupid shoes because of your butt or some shit."

"Sure gonna miss a sight like that," Yō murmured dismally from nearby. He turned his devious instigation to his right where Saburōta sat along the bar beside him. "Right, Bandō?"

Saburōta's murmur was low and noticeably bashful by the colour flooding his cheeks beneath his sunglasses. "Ah… I think she's fine how she is," he admitted in a small voice.

"You're such a dweeb," Yō chastised derisively. "It's no wonder you've never had a girlfriend."

Behind the bar, Rikio shuffled forward, a tight knot in his face as he scolded Yō's lewd behaviour. "What's wrong with Bandō likin' Nē-chan the way she is? It's not like takin' a couple of inches away changes much." He supposed that it was a more polite way of defending that the woman had an attractive figure no matter how tall she was.

After turning to face Rikio's outrageous insinuation, Yō's expression deadpanned intolerantly. "Kamamoto, you are the _last_ person I want to hear talking about how people change when they lose a couple of inches."

"Speaking of butts," Neirah scowled. She locked her vindictive gaze on where Misaki had instigated a topic that seemed to infect the remainder of their company. "I'm more than well enough to kick yours!" She began to struggle for freedom in Izumo's grasp again. "Onii-chan, let me go! It's time that I taught Yata-san some manners!"

Despite the way the fiery brunette struggled to maim Misaki's mockery, Izumo didn't relax his grip. "Yeah, not gonna happen," he promised. "And if you don't cool it soon, I'm gonna put a leash on you and tether you to the bar. You had two years to teach him somethin', and he still scratches up my bar floors with that stupid skateboard of his."

"Rattleboard!" Neirah refuted passionately. "It's a rattleboard, and if you'd let me go, I'd knock him over the head with it!"

"Goin' back to the butt thing," Misaki instigated slyly. "D' you forget that you can't even stand on it without fallin' on yours?" Without much effort, he reached out with his toe and knocked his skateboard from where it was propped against his table, nudging it out between him and the wrathful lioness. "There. Let her go, Kusanagi-san. My frontline's covered."

"Why you…" The growling Neirah's attention slowly rolled towards where she heard Tatara snickering lightly nearby. When she met the sight of his camera lens, observing her outburst, she turned violent again. "Tat-chan, that better not be recording! You know full well that you're not immune to maiming!"

"Of course, it's not!" Tatara said the words, but it was clear to his best friend that he'd lied. "I'm just practicing keeping my hand steady."

A hefty sigh of defeat huffed from within Neirah's chest as she bowed her head in surrender. "Maybe you should ask Kusanagi-san for help with that. His grip is iron."

"Complacency," Izumo cooed fondly in triumph. "That's better." He released his grip on the defeated woman, keeping a wary eye on her in case she decided to bolt, but to his relief, she seemed to mope around with an irritable scowl on her face instead. "Don't be like that. Yata-chan is right, you know. We tried to warn you about the consequences and then you went and wound up in the hospital anyway. If you can't listen to reason, we're just going to have to get a little rough with you instead."

Ignoring the sound of Neirah's padded swats raining down on the arms Misaki put up to defend himself, Yō took the opportunity to volunteer his services. "I'm all for keepin' an eye on her if that's what you want," he instigated. "That's one nightshift I don't mind workin'."

Rikio's low growl rumbled defensively from behind the rosewood counter that separated him from their lustful clanmate. "I thought you were goin' with Kobayashi-kun?"

The unpleasant recollection turned Yō's expression tart as he closed his eyes and turned up his nose. "Nah, she's hung up on some other guy that she can't admit she actually has feelings for."

"Now that you mention it," Saburōta pried. "Chitose hangs around a lot of different women, but I don't think I've ever seen him with a girlfriend-" A delicate yip rushed past his grinding teeth as he clutched his aching head after it suffered the brunt of Yō's wrath. "I get it. It's only funny when I'm the target, right?"

"Exactly," Yō snapped a little more soberly.

After releasing HOMRA's hunter to the rest of her pack to lick her wounds, Izumo straightened at the end of the bar to the sound of a customer joining their company. When the young man opened his mouth to address the bar's contents, Izumo quickly threw his hand out towards the countertop to shoo Yō and Saburōta out of the way. "Oi, you're taking up the good seats again. Move down." When the boys grumbled their resistance, Izumo had no choice but to greet their visitor professionally. It would do him no good to beat a couple of heads together that looked to be around the age of the boy to join them that afternoon. "Welcome."

The strained young brunette didn't seem to take his kind brown eyes away from Izumo, and after a moment of consideration, he spoke in a voice forcibly assured. "Uh, I hear that you can join HOMRA here."

Izumo's pleasant smile didn't fade, but his eyes did shift towards where he noticed Tatara creeping forward. Outside of the anxious boy's notice, Izumo's jaw locked, preparing for the mayhem to follow. "I guess you could-"

"Ah! So, you're Akagi Shōhei-kun." Tatara's expression didn't dampen quite like Izumo's had as he inched far too close to their jumpy visitant with his video recorder rolling. "Come on in! There's no need to be shy!"

After spinning into Tatara's good intentions, the unexpectedly anticipated Shōhei fled backward and vocalized his discomfort. "E-eh?! Who are you!?" He glanced at the polished lens that reflected the light of the bar before trying to peek at the camera's master around the clunky unit. "And just what are you recording?"

"Not me, that's who," Neirah murmured next to a curious Misaki. Once she'd sized the man from his cap to his shoes, she tipped her casual glance towards the nosy vanguard by her side. "Would it be rude of me to say something like that out loud?"

Misaki seemed to ponder her question for a moment before scrunching up his face in conclusion. "Wait, shouldn't you have asked that before you said-" His tension relaxed the moment he had to look down at the woman taking his side, and he admitted that he filled with a small sense of achievement at that moment. "Hah! No way, Kusanagi-san was right!" Despite his reserved blushing, his mischievous smile broadened as he rested his elbow on the woman's shoulder to prop himself up. "This is great. You're totally shorter than me now."

Neirah didn't shift her monotonous expression away from their visitor. "Yata-san? Have I ever threatened to maim you before?"

"Huh? No, why?"

"Because if this persists, you will suffer _thorough_ maiming."

Something about the way Neirah had made her blunt statement caused Misaki's temperature to rise until he was peeling his instigation away from her body. "Tsk, whatever," he groaned. "Let's just go see what's up."

By his command, Misaki slunk around Tatara's introductions, popping over the welcoming man's shoulder to confirm his suspicions. "So, you're the guy who wants to join HOMRA, huh?" Misaki was strangely satisfied by how rattled their guest became, seemingly oblivious to the memories of his first meeting with the intimidating Red Clan. Since joining HOMRA, Misaki had become just as notorious, and their frontline's Yatagarasu. Nobody was entering without his hearsay. "But you know, it's not like every person who wants to join gets in, y' know. If you're not good enough, maybe you won't walk outta here without a couple of _injuries_."

Shōhei looked down at the menacing instigator taunting his arrival in a sinister tone, but he couldn't help smiling to consider the small-stature man uttering threats like HOMRA's guard dog. He honestly didn't know if the barking boy was of much danger, but he decided to tread cautiously, given his understanding of their abilities as a clan. "I-I'm prepared for that."

"Yata-chan, don't just go and threaten him like that," Izumo muttered blankly. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to break Neirah of that habit?"

_Heh…_ Misaki threw his head over his shoulder to where Neirah was standing nearby with a particularly irksome expression on her face. "If Tsukiyo was the one threatenin' him, he'd be gone already."

"What can I say?" the woman nearly growled. Neirah let a devious flash accompany her seductive leer as a mild grin curled her full lips to one side. "I don't like to share my den with just anyone."

Nervously, Shōhei's throat worked as he looked past Misaki and met the passionate azure gaze of HOMRA's infamous predator. _'A woman,'_ he mused analytically. _'That must be her. I've only heard of the one.'_ He felt his posture slacken with the attempt to slink away, and he quickly seized his frame in one spot before doing something he might regret. _'HOMRA's Red Lion.'_ She wasn't entirely what he'd expected from the rumours, but then maybe it was wrong of him to assume that a dangerous woman couldn't also be kind of pretty. _'This is really the place, then.' _

Regardless of Shōhei's affronted gasp, Misaki didn't restrict himself from taking the man's coat beneath his palm to part him to one side. "So? What's the verdict, Kusanagi-san?" Misaki chirped eagerly. "Do you think he's got what it takes?"

"To what? Be a lion's main dish?" Neirah hummed. "He's cute enough, I suppose."

Izumo heaved a heavy sigh to be listening to their banter, and suddenly he wondered if it was a good thing that the pair had settled their differences. "Neirah, don't you start. That's entirely inappropriate, and you know it."

Once the impatient Misaki had jostled Shōhei's position, Shōhei turned over his shoulder to face the sight of an unexpectedly familiar face. Or rather, he recognized aspects of features that did their best to stay hidden from passing observation. At first, he was skeptical, scanning his memories for traits that would have led his childhood friend to HOMRA's doorstep, but when the recognition also flashed on Saburōta's face, his smile was returning in force. "San-chan?"

Rikio almost addressed their visitor to assure them that no one in their company responded to that name, but then Saburōta climbed to his feet in a sudden rush of acknowledgment.

"Shōhei!?"

Shōhei's expression brightened. "No way! Seriously?! It's been a while!" The relief filled Shōhei's entirety, bleeding all the tension from his taut posture as he rushed across the bar towards a welcoming sight. "Does that mean you're a member of HOMRA? What a coincidence!"

"You know this guy, Bandō?" Misaki nearly growled. "Gotta say, s' pretty lame tryin' to get in on a recommendation from _you_."

Before Saburōta could choke out an answer, Shōhei continued to rattle out his relieved rambles, his tone filled with a fond familiarity that seemed to set Saburōta on edge. "I was super nervous this entire time, but seeing your face is a huge relief!"

Neirah's expression was the one to drop next to Misaki as she slithered towards the unexpected reunion. "He has a sense of humour, I see," she teased dryly. "Not even forty percent of his face is visible under those ridiculous effects."

Misaki simply nodded twice in agreement.

Catching the tension increase growing tangible amongst their gathering, Neirah straightened and dusted her ponytail over her shoulder. Something about the reunion seemed off, and she was immediately encouraged to investigate. "Bandō, baby, who's your friend?"

Although visibly shaken, Shōhei seemed delighted to catch the meaning of the woman's casual interruption. "Wah!? San-chan! You never told me you had a girlfriend!"

Finally snapping himself out of his trance, Saburōta lurched past where Neirah had taken his side so he could shake his fist at the very insinuation. "Idiot! Don't disrespect Onē-san that way!"

Shōhei diverted his eyes, quickly scanning his memory before assuming that the reason Saburōta referred to Neirah as his sister was because of a clan mentality. The very thought caused his cheeks to dust with rosy pigments. His old childhood friend was part of a famous clan filled with dangerous people. He thought it was the coolest thing. "Ah, it's disrespectful to say she's your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Saburōta snapped in retaliation.

Neirah oversaw the way Saburōta raged, her dubious stare tapering on the tension that was causing his body to tremble. Ignoring his startled yelp, she grabbed the flap of his hood, jerking him down to her level so she could claim the entirety of his consideration. "That doesn't answer my question," she cautioned him sternly. "If I get my answers, I'll overlook the fact that you just made it sound like dating me would be unpleasant."

"Ah, well… y' see, he's-" Saburōta was getting a little sick by being dragged around like he was insignificant, and when Shōhei dropped his arm around his neck to tug his old friend against his chest, Saburōta's teeth milled with impatience.

"This guy is my childhood friend!" Shōhei announced proudly. "We hung out a lot as kids and totally got along!"

"Who got along with who…?"

_Huh?_ Shōhei tipped his curious gaze towards where the man he'd just deemed a 'friend' swatted away his very notion of camaraderie.

"You want to join us?! I definitely don't approve!" Saburōta shouted intolerantly.

Noting her companion's flustering, Neirah slid her attention towards their new arrival and the way he seemed to hesitate when Saburōta banished him. She shouldn't have been surprised. She'd seen many different types of friendships synchronize within their humble walls, but what intrigued her the most was Saburōta's sudden eruption of confident command. He was typically mild-mannered, and that was being generous, but as soon as Shōhei arrived, Saburōta was acting like he had something to prove.

"That was a little brash, wasn't it?" Neirah instigated softly.

Saburōta seemed alarmed by her gentle warning, and maybe he also felt victimized. He supposed what hurt the most was that Neirah didn't automatically take his side in the debate. "Trust me, Onē-san! This guy's no good!" he guaranteed. After warning the woman away from the docile man straightening from the assault, he whirled back to face Shōhei, who didn't seem to take his raving anymore seriously than the rest of them. "Besides! Why do you want to join HOMRA anyways!?"

Shōhei seemed to take far too long to contemplate his answer before announcing his impersonal intensions. "Isn't it cool to join HOMRA? Everyone's heard of HOMRA's legend, so why are you acting surprised that everyone wants to be a part of it?"

"Too shallow!" Saburōta roared. He took a dominant step forward and shoved his finger in Shōhei's face. "You want to join HOMRA with such lame excuses!?"

To defend against Saburōta's unexpected outburst, Shōhei took Neirah by her upper arms and dragged her between him and the enraged vision of his old friend. A mild grin brightened his unsettled expression as he peeked over the woman's shoulder towards Saburōta's boiling wrath. "Ah, but how cool is this? I got to meet the real Red Lion! Word on the street is that she's pretty scary, you know." Unaware of how counterproductive it was to involve Neirah in a situation involving Saburōta, Shōhei peeked towards the indifferent woman before returning his eyes towards Saburōta's with a sheepish grin. "And she's travel-sized! You know, the rumours made her sound a lot taller."

"I recently lost a couple of inches." Neirah murmured her words inanely, causing Shōhei to glance her feet with a perplexed look on his face.

"Get your hands off our lion!" Saburōta raged. He grabbed hold of Neirah's wrist and jerked her out of Shōhei's embrace with a bitter hiss, steadying her defensively by his side. "I don't care how cool you think it is!"

"Wolf-kun, I'm not some _toy_ you boys shared when you were children," Neirah stated flatly.

"Wolf-kun…?" Shōhei murmured thoughtfully. "That's pretty cool! What earned you that nickname?"

"Nothing! None of your damn business!" Saburōta rushed in a single breath.

As a result, Shōhei tipped his curious smile towards the less-lethal lioness by Saburōta's side. "Why do you call him Wolf-kun?"

"Why do you call him _San-chan_?" Neirah instigated.

"Why doesn't anybody call me by my name!?" Saburōta fumed irrationally.

"Bandō, shut the hell up before you bring the whole damn place down," Izumo impatiently commanded.

"Now, now," Tatara moderated calmly. "This isn't something for San-chan _or_ Wolf-kun to decide." His humour faded with sincerity as he let his eyes meet Shōhei's amidst the chaos. "I'll take you to meet our king first."

Shōhei took a deep breath, his fidgety fingers touching the beak of his snapback as he focussed his mind on the task at hand. He had hoped his reunion with his childhood friend might have gone a little smoother, but that seemed to be a lost cause, for whatever reason. Turning away from the hostility, he shifted his sights on the challenge ahead.

"I apologize for Wolf-kun, Akagi-san." Neirah didn't take her eyes off of Saburōta's flustering, her spirits noticeably heavy when Shōhei turned to face the humbling beauty by his side. "I don't know what's gotten into him today."

"A-ah, you can just call me Shōhei," he rushed out pleasantly. "Just Shōhei is fine!"

Neirah could feel the pressure of Saburōta's intense gaze locked on her as she connected her eyes with Shōhei's, and when she opened her mouth, she could hear the riled wolf's heart hit the floor. "Very well."

"What!?" Saburōta refuted. "You never call _anyone_ by the name they want to be called! Not even our king!"

"Bandō, baby, you're making a scene."

Saburōta's face ignited. "Would you quit callin' me that!?" he hissed discreetly.

Shōhei looked at Neirah's calm vacancy and then returned his gaze to Saburōta's. "So, if she's not your girlfriend, why does she call you-?"

"I said it's none of your business!"

* * *

Neirah waited eagerly below the impending initiation taking place above the bar, sitting on the polished rosewood surface of Izumo's counter with one leg folded neatly over the other. "It got quiet all of a sudden," she whispered ominously. "How do you think the slate ruled?"

"Maybe the kid's nothin' but ash by now," Misaki chimed in deviously.

"You're not someone to talk about being a kid," Izumo reprimanded sternly. "And you-" He reached out and jerked on Neirah's ponytail like he was ringing a bell. "I don't care what it looks like, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your damn butt off the bar?"

Neirah was just about to open her mouth when the walls shook to the sound of an agitated wolf howling his disapproval from the room where Tatara and her King had seen the verdict through for one Akagi Shōhei. Apparently, that was a ruling that displeased Saburōta.

"N-no way!" Saburōta thundered. "There has to be some kind of mistake! Try it again!"

"Ah, San-chan, I don't think it works that way," Tatara mumbled from the top of the stairs.

"Guess he made it through," Izumo hummed through a soft smile. All that remained was for Tatara to return and give Shōhei a proper introduction to the rest of their clan. Though, he anticipated some resistance when Saburōta scampered after his friends. "That's good. We just cleaned the upstairs. It would've done us no good to have mop the poor guy off the floor."

"That was too dark!" Neirah scolded upon popping off the bar as commanded. "I, for one, think he's nice." Given Misaki's proximity, she avoided mentioning that any friend of Saburōta automatically fell into her good-book.

Regardless, Misaki snorted from his place next to her. "Yeah? Well, _nice_ doesn't get you shit in this world. The sooner he learns that the sooner he can make himself useful to the rest of the clan." Misaki had already tipped his stool back insecurely, and when Neirah nudged towards him with a sudden bout of nearness, he almost toppled entirely.

"Says he who brings gifts for his sick friends," she cooed. "But don't worry, I've always found your tough-guy act rather charming too."

"O-oi! D-don't mess with me!" he scowled. "Just 'cause we're c-cool now doesn't mean I'll go easy on you!"

"Oh? Maybe we should have a go, for old time's sake~"

Neirah's devious instigation was interrupted by the triumphant return of their newest recruit, successfully descending with the mark of her pride on his left forearm. "Well, look at you," she murmured friskily. "No worse for wear, I see."

"What's this?" Izumo instigated across from the cynical lioness. "I didn't think you were gonna pass."

"This isn't a competition, Onii-chan," Neirah sassed. "But if it were, you know there's nobody more cynical than I am."

"Touché, Mademoiselle."

"Kusanagi-san, didn't I tell you from the start?" Misaki interrupted casually. "I pretty much knew this guy wouldn't have a problem. I mean, what with him bein' friends with Bandō and all."

"I thought you said that was a lame excuse for him to join us?" Tatara pried.

"Ah, but if Bandō had it his way, he wouldn't have, right?" Misaki nodded his head a couple of times to reassure himself of his statement. "So that makes it good." When Misaki caught the sight of Neirah glowering at him fiercely from the next seat, she shuddered with sheepish alarm. "W-why do you always look at me like that?!"

"_You're_ about to become a lion's main dish," she cautioned. "You know better than to pick on my Wolf-kun while I'm sitting right here."

"Y-you're always so damn defensive over him!" Misaki shouted intolerantly. "What the hell is that even about?!"

Speaking of Wolf-kun, Saburōta's voice was quick to echo down the staircase when he bellowed his intolerance towards Shōhei's affectionate smile. "Don't pretend to be so familiar with me!"

Neirah cringed, and Misaki turned his mortified gaze towards the doorway that he knew Saburōta was somewhere behind. Given the echoing of his voice, it was hard to tell just how close he was. "He seems to be lookin' after himself just fine all of a sudden."

"Yeah, we'll get to that," Neirah muttered defeatedly.

"So damn loud," Izumo groaned. "No wonder it's so slow around here today. Everybody in a five-block radius can probably hear all his moaning."

Neirah sighed and climbed to her feet, causing Misaki to hum his curiosity to the assumption that she was leaving. "Hm? Where're you off to, Tsukiyo? You know Kusanagi-san doesn't want you on your foot too much."

"I don't need to take him far," Neirah reasoned. "Just outside of a five-block radius.

"And do what? _Shoot him_?" Izumo instigated dryly. "As fond as I am of silence, even I can admit that's a little harsh."

Neirah's smile was warm and full of affection as she gently made her way to the other side of the room. "Don't be so dramatic, Onii-chan," she sassed under her breath. "I'm just going to bring back some memories and hope that makes him feel about this big for putting up such a fuss." To the sound of Saburōta's booming tantrum, she checked the distance between her thumb and forefinger before adjusting it to be even tinier. "Maybe this big."

_Huh?_ Misaki looked towards Neirah and then back at Izumo. "Do I want to know?"

A delicate shrug noted Izumo's indifference with the youth's genuine curiosity. "There was this thing a long time ago- Anyways, it's not important."

But it was. It was significant to Neirah, and that's why the mercy drained from her expression the moment she reached through the back doorway to seize the sulking mass Saburōta had become. She didn't care how riled he was as she dragged him by his hood, right past his friend and through the bar, finally getting his huffing nonsense to fit through the front door of their den. It was evident that he felt the need to vent some sort of frustration, but Izumo's business was not the place for him to be wailing like a banshee over something as harmless as Shōhei appeared to be.

Shōhei's first instinct was to chase after his old friend and offer his assistance, but the casual expressions lingering among him reassured that the lethal bombshell meant no harm to his comrade. Still, he muttered his uneasy announcement among their smiling faces. "Hah, is he going to be okay?" After all, he'd heard pretty disturbing rumours about the Red Lion during his search for HOMRA and their base of operations.

The musical laughter of Tatara's encouraging tone filled the space between them with a warm sense of comfort. "It's fine," he proclaimed brightly. "This is pretty normal for them." Even as he fiddled with his camera in an attempt to change the film canister, he seemed distracted by pleasant thoughts to transcend their current circumstances. Shōhei might have been new to HOMRA, but HOMRA was not new to the way Neirah stomped around moderating their eccentric displays of passionate mayhem. Sometimes Tatara wondered if she wasn't the only reason the bar managed to stay standing after all those years.

Shōhei turned his sheepish smile towards the friendly man by his side. If nothing else, Tatara was welcoming and mildly reassuring. "At least that answers my question from earlier. I guess Tsukiyo-san acts kind of like a big sister around here, doesn't she?"

"She sure has a way of dealing with conflict," Tatara reasoned. After replacing the cartridge in his video recording device, he smiled vacantly and popped the lens in front of his eye so he could view the world through his adjustable scope. "I just hope she's not looking for one of those beach tents to throw him into at this time of year."

_E-ehn!? _Shōhei was interested in laughing along with Tatara's joke, but that was when he comprehended that the man might be serious. "W-what would they do in one of those?" He had to admit that it was a little curious that Saburōta passionately claimed that Neirah wasn't his girlfriend after a comment like that.

"Well, you see," Tatara initiated deviously. "Legend has it-" Tatara yelped the moment that Izumo beat the back of his head with his balled fist.

"No," Izumo stated bluntly. "No more legends."

"Ah, okay, okay," Tatara groaned in defeat. But a moment after he rubbed his aching skull, his smile was returning. "Eh!? But Shōhei-kun, when is your birthday?"

"Er… it's in April, why?"

"Why, indeed…"

"Totsuka," Izumo growled impatiently.

"Okay, alright, I'm sorry."

* * *

"N-Nē-san, stop draggin' me around like a damn kid!"

At Saburōta's command, Neirah puffed out her cheeks with a dismal groan, letting her fingers slide from the material of his hood. She whirled to face him just as he was adjusting the clothing back up around his head, her expression stern as she analyzed his fretful scampering. "Would you care to explain your little outburst back at the bar?"

At first, he shrunk away from the severity of her tone, but then he was fueled by the adrenaline still burning hot in his blood. "M-me?! What about you?!" he refuted passionately. "What's the big idea lettin' that guy grab you like that, huh? I thought you didn't like people who aren't members touching you?!"

Neirah closed her eyes so that she didn't outwardly roll them. "A phobia I kicked last summer, in case you'd forgotten," she reassured him soundly. It wasn't like Asuka was an easy memory to lose. "What concerns me is the fact that you've never worried about these kinds of things before. Now all of a sudden, the sky is falling to the arrival of a supposed friend."

After shoving his hands exasperatedly into his pockets to keep them warm, Saburōta diverted his sheepish gaze from behind the protection of his sunglasses. "I'm tellin' you, that Shōhei is no good..."

Once he had settled, Neirah's tone lowered sympathetically to consider the sudden return of his awkwardly passive self. "There's my wolf," she whispered tenderly. "Running all on his own where no one can reach him."

The ire had long diminished as Saburōta loyally tailed a lion down the street. She seemed thoughtful as she tipped her head towards the sky, breathing into her palms to warm them until he felt guilty for being the encouraging force to take her from the comfortable temperatures of the bar. "A-are your hands cold?"

A sly grin curled the woman's mock-flirtatious sneer. "Why? Are you going to offer to hold them?"

If Saburōta had a single chill in his cheeks when she spoke, her words quickly banished it away for embarrassed heat. He could hear notes of ridicule in her tone and saw the pity in her eyes. That was one thing he couldn't stand about his fair friend. No matter how much time passed between them, she still treated him like without her; he wouldn't survive on his own. "Why do you talk to me like that?" he mumbled shyly under his breath. "Like I'm a kid or something?"

"Well, aren't you acting childish?" she cooed fondly. "Big sisters have to keep their little brothers in line when they act out." Neirah turned her gentle smile towards him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "And right now, you're the problem child."

"Ah, but we're the same age."

"Wrong," she sang wickedly behind the wagging of her finger. Then, she let one hand bloom, spreading her fingers to indicate the distance between them. "I have five months on you, Bandō, baby. So, no matter how you slice it, you're my little brother, and it's my job to keep you in line." After stopping in front of him, continuing to hold up her hand like she was signalling him to stop, she looked at her empty palm. After wrinkling her nose, she thrust it back towards him for fulfilment. "Well? Don't leave me hanging."

A chill unrelated to the cold tickled his vertebrae before he quietly withdrew one of his hands. He gave Neirah's palm a gentle clap to satisfy her juvenile desires, a mild grin brightening his hangdog expression to watch her tiny hand vanish behind his. Like the toll had been paid, Neirah giggled, prancing off ahead of him with a giddy smile on her face as she wove through the street. The warmth she shared with him through their contact was unexpected in the middle of January. Neirah used to keep a rather low body temperature that always had her complaining about the cold, but he'd rarely heard her chastise the nuisance that winter.

He slowly retracted his curled fingers towards his chest, watching Neirah pop footprints into the snow that gathered close to assorted windbreaks in a few places that didn't see much sunlight during the day. The snow didn't last long in Shizume if it fell at all. Soon, the rain would see it all gone in the bare streets. "Aren't you going to ask me why?" he interrupted.

After throwing her head over her shoulder, Neirah's innocent pout furrowed with her confusion. "Why what?"

His second hand clenched in his pocket as he poked his free finger over his shoulder towards the bar from whence he was dragged. "W-why Shōhei is no good?"

"I _could_," she taunted. "But then I'd have to think of creative ways to call you a liar."

Saburōta's finger wilted like his spirits as he shrunk into slackened posture. "Y-you don't actually like him… do you?"

Neirah's face flooded with embarrassment as she energetically laughed off the insinuation. "Why? Is Wolf-kun jealous?" She tried her best not to act too outlandishly as she abandoned her tiny snow pile to return to his side. "Don't worry. I have every intension of marrying you someday. Let's just hope that our Asuka turns out better than the one I met in Nagasaki."

Despite her laughter, Saburōta's spirits couldn't lift to the sassy tone of her voice. _'She doesn't take a thing I say seriously…'_

"I think he's nice," Neirah offered in a friendly tone. "He seems funny, and he was brave to have faced us all like he did today. It's been a while since somebody's outwardly asked to join." She could see him throw his head with dissatisfaction out of the corner of her eye, but her smile didn't fade. "It sort of reminds me of someone else I know. So, I can see why you were friends."

Saburōta didn't like something about the way she said 'were' like it was maliciously past-tense.

"If that's true, then maybe we're all no good," she reasoned. "Maybe that's why we're always there for each other. Because we all know what it feels like to cool our tempers alone when all we want is someone to keep us company while the heat's on." She turned her tender expression towards where he seemed to tower over her since she'd surrendered her favourite pair of high-heel boots. "Maybe we all just need somebody to burn with," she whispered. "And I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

She dropped her eyes, feeling pressured by his unreadable stare from behind his dark sunglasses, and turning her nose up bitterly, she reached out and stole the article for the umpteenth time. This time, he didn't give chase, though. He could feel the weight of the conversation shifting, and of all people he trusted to break away his walls, Neirah was on the top of the list. He had no problems looking into her bright and adoring eyes when her face illuminated to the reveal of his.

"I never asked you why you were all the way out in Minato that day when we fought Goya-san together either." She gently took his hand, weaving his shades between his fingers as she continued. "I've always wondered those sorts of things, but you'll tell me when you're ready." She hopefully raised her eyes to his, letting them gleam with affection, knowing that his filled with the same. "Until then, I'm just going to be there when you need to burn, okay?"

Lost somewhere between his heart and his eyes lay the words that he'd always wanted to say to her but could never manifest properly. She made it look so easy, and it caused his face to burn with humility. He hated it when she talked circles around him, making his feelings seem insignificant only to turn around and trip him up with the endearment that came with every word.

"You know… I always thought we made a pretty good team," Neirah continued softly. "We sure gave Goya-san a run for his money."

Finally, he diverted his gaze towards his palm that she'd pressed around his self-proclaimed identity. He supposed that the annoying part of the entire situation was that Shōhei was one of the few people who understood its origins. Just recalling unpleasant memories made jaw lock around a bitter hiss. "I know that in the end, he kinda stuck his neck out for both of us, but I still don't like the guy." He growled to divert his train of thought. "Any asshole who just beats on a woman like that-"

"Wolf-kun, Goya-san _died_ to save me," Neirah burst out with an uneasy laugh. "He couldn't give much else to gain our forgiveness."

"Still," he pouted defiantly.

Her laughter was musical as she banished the thought. "You make such a fuss over the silliest things sometimes." She ignored how startled he was when she leapt into his side, clasping his arm tightly between both of hers. "But I'm glad for him. Not only is he the reason that I'm alive, but he's also the reason why I get to babysit my future husband until I'm thirty."

Saburōta parted his lips to battle her mockery, but when he turned to face her, he noticed that she was wobbling. What he thought was a cute gesture of affection turned out to be a desperate plea for assistance as they continued to comb the streets a lifetime away from his worries. He stopped, immediately trying to justify the actions that brought her pain. "H-Hey, Onē-san, y-you're limping pretty badly." But he couldn't, and it caused a guilty groan to huff out a foggy haze in front of his face. "We shouldn't've walked this far…"

"I'm fine," she cooed pleasantly. "I can keep going."

"No." When his sudden command startled her into flinching against his side, he immediately cringed. He supposed that's what he got for being so pathetic around her any other day. It wasn't a wonder why she couldn't take his genuine ire seriously. "Last year, when we got stuck out in the cold, you got sick, and it was all my fault."

_Oh?_ Neirah's playful smirk twisted as she reconnected their eyes. "Are you going to dump me into the harbour again?"

"M-me?! You were the one who shoved me first!" he raged intolerantly. "You didn't even know if I could swim! You coulda killed me!"

"Minutiae, Bandō, baby. I would have saved you," she reasoned soundly. She snuggled against his arm with a soft purr to help reassure him of her intentions. "I'll always protect my wolf."

Despite the warmth of her contact spreading through his body, he couldn't help but feel the cold sting of rejection. _'Figures. No matter how long ago it was, she stills sees me as the weakling that almost got himself killed by Goya.'_ Then again, he'd never done an outstanding job at proving himself to her afterwards. Every time he tried to defend her in return, she always ended up in some form of mortal peril. _'Great…'_

Neirah's sudden whimper startled Saburōta to attention, and sure enough, he'd turned just in time to catch the sight of her whinging, interrupting the tender smile on her face with an agonized grimace. "Are you still okay?" he murmured urgently.

"I blame the cold," she conceded miserably. "Pins and needles."

"Shit… and you were gonna run today," Saburōta muttered despondently. After shuffling away from her side, he ignored her disapproving whimpers and crouched over the sidewalk. "Here, I'll carry you back."

"I can do it myself-"

"I'm not helping 'cause you're weak." When Neirah turned her unexpectedly mawkish expression his way, he diverted his sentimental rebuttal in an attempt to hide his shy blush. "I'm doing it because you're my friend, so it doesn't matter how strong you are."

A particularly vulnerable expression softened the typically abrasive woman's face as she limped towards his offering and flopped herself over his shoulders with a fond coo. After resting her face against his shoulder to cool the blush in her face, she let her eyelids flutter shut with relief. "Thank you, Wolf-kun."

He straightened slowly so as not to aggravate her wounds any further, his grip on her thighs sturdy to make sure she was secure against him. "It'd be pretty crappy of me to make you walk all the way back when you're hurt after you dragged me out here just to make me feel better."

Neirah opened her eyes, tilting her chin against his shoulder so that she could peek his sincerity. "You feel better?"

_Mm…_ Saburōta gave a mild nod before offering her a half-hearted smile. "It was nice to have a bit of a distraction."

"Ah, but you're going to be angry as soon as you see him again, aren't you?" When she noticed him scoffing and turning his guilty pout away from her interrogation, she slipped her arm past his shoulder and gave his cheek a gentle nudge with her forefinger. "Then maybe I'll just have to ride around on your back all day to make sure you don't pick any fights with the other kids."

"Please stop…"

"Just remember what I told you years ago," she whispered tenderly. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Even if I think this new fellow is alright, it doesn't mean I won't listen." She lowered her finger, watching intently as his sheepish gaze returned to where she confidently beamed back at him. "As long as you're a member of HOMRA, you're not alone. I'm still here if you need somebody to talk to." Her heart rate quickened to feel the embarrassment flooding her cheeks. "You know, from one lone wolf to another."

When Saburōta turned away, his thoughts were rampant with the memories of their time together. Maybe they were still all over the map, but he couldn't deny how comfortable he felt when she reminded him that she cared. "It's been that long, huh?" he began thoughtfully. "I definitely have seniority here."

"And just think, in a little over a decade, we can finally get married." Her musical laughter drowned out his bashful curses as her comment caused him to trip over his own feet. "But once we're husband and wife, you'll have to call me something other than Onē-san, okay? Because that would be weird. You could call me 'Queen' if you'd like. Or _Mistress_." She hissed her instigation sinisterly with a childish giggle to top it off. "Ooo, oh yes. I like that one the most."

"I swear, I am never drinking around any of you ever again," he solemnly assured.

"Everything you say can and will be used against you whether you're drunk or sober."

"Pretty sure I'm not gonna make it to thirty."


	42. Kiku

**Kiku**

* * *

_**January 26th, 2000**_

A varied assortment of muffled video game sounds sung between the television and the two young boys mashing the buttons on the controls linked to the noise. It was late, and the light of the small tv was causing Shōhei's eyes to ache against the background of the dim room. He laid on his front, swinging his legs back and forth as his character led the charge on the demons that he faced next to his uninvited guest.

In the corner of his eye, he peeked the sight of Saburōta sitting silently nearby with his legs folded neatly beneath him. He hadn't said much since Shōhei had snuck him in through the front door of his family home. And on a completely unrelated train of thought, he was quite proud of their ninja-like accomplishments for managing something so tactful. Then again, it wasn't the first time it had happened, and he somewhat doubted that it would be the last. Still, his friend was getting better at keeping his voice down when he knew that Shōhei's parents would disapprove of the company so late past their bedtime on a school night. The last thing Shōhei wanted to see was his parents sending his friend back from whence he came.

Then, when Shōhei returned his attention towards the bright screen, his heart sank to the sight of Saburōta's character perishing against a completely avoidable assault from their enemies. From how it appeared, Saburōta did nothing to prevent his character's untimely demise, leaving them to fail their quest. "Ah, San-chan, didn't you see him coming after you?"

Saburōta lowered his head, and Shōhei found it hard to know where the boy was looking behind the dark discs attached to his face. It seemed that even late at night, his comrade never went anywhere without them.

"Ehn, guess not," Saburōta stated quietly with an indifferent shrug.

Fed up with the mystery, a grinning Shōhei sat up on his hands and knees, reaching for the shades diluting his friend's perception. "Well, duh, how can you see when you're wearing sunglasses inside-"

The playful Shōhei didn't expect Saburōta to be so skittish when he snapped the glasses away, but what struck him even more bewildering was the sight of his fretful eyes red from what seemed like tears and framed with dark circles denoting a severe lack of sleep. _Ah! _It startled him backwards, and he didn't know which of them was more surprised when Saburōta went on the attack.

Before Shōhei could consider retaliating, Saburōta pounced and knocked his friend back, growling with impatience as he reached for the return of his guise. "Hey! W-who said you could take those!? Give them back!"

"Shh! San-chan, keep it down!" Shōhei hushed nervously. "My parents are-"

Shōhei thought his heart was going to stop when he heard his mother's footsteps on the other side of his bedroom door, and he scrambled out from beneath his companion as soon as Saburōta reclaimed his accessory. On his way towards the door, Shōhei spared Saburōta a parting glance with worry on his face. _'Wow… San-chan looks really tired tonight…'_

"Shōhei? I heard a loud noise in there. Is everything alright?"

Before his mother could open the door any wider, Shōhei opened it a crack and offered her a reassuring smile. "It's fine, Mom! I just dropped some things, that's all."

"Shōhei, it's late," she reasoned tenderly. "You should be in bed."

After awkwardly stuffing his frames back over his face, Saburōta drew his knees up against his chest as he begrudgingly listened to the interactions of Shōhei with his parents. He was flush against Shōhei's open closet, trying his hardest to avoid discovery.

"Shōhei, listen to your mother," Shōhei's father teased from down the hall. "You know she's the boss."

From behind the protection of his sunglasses, Saburōta sealed his eyes tight, grinding his teeth as he buried his face in his arms. So, this was what a proper family acted like, with respect and care for each other. _Tsk…_ Even his resentful scoff was hushed as he shrunk away from the light Shōhei let in through the doorway.

"Sorry, Dad! Okay! I'll shut it off." The moment Shōhei closed his bedroom door, his smile faded. He tipped his concerned gaze over his shoulder towards where Saburōta sat illuminated by the flashing lights of their defeat. With quiet footsteps, he grabbed the television remote and muted the music entirely before taking a seat across from his friend and diverting his shamefaced expression. "I'm sorry for taking your glasses without asking," he whispered. "I uh… you just always-"

"I shouldn't've yelled."

Shōhei peeked the muffled response of his friend, who was trying his best to keep his voice down. It always seemed like a struggle for someone who was so accustomed to a house full of yelling. In his experience, raising his voice was the only way to be heard. That was why Saburōta took refuge at the soft-spoken Akagi household from time to time. It was the only way he could ever get any sleep. "Was your dad pretty mad again tonight?"

Behind his glasses, Saburōta let his gaze comb the contents of his comrade's room. "He hit her again," he murmured flatly. "So, she locked herself in the bathroom and started crying." That was the mild version of the story. Then, just down the hall from the scene, Saburōta recalled burrowing under his blankets to try and drown out the sound of his father screaming through the door at his terrified mother. Of course, shortly after, they had to get on the topic of how inadequate their child was. His father always managed to make it about that when he came home drunk, and as soon as his mother defended their boy, she became the enemy.

That wasn't the hard part. If Saburōta's father wanted to hate him, that was fine, but what he couldn't stand was the sound of his mother drying her eyes and sneaking into his bedroom after all the commotion to hold her trembling son while he pretended to sleep.

_It's okay, baby. Momma won't let him hurt you._

But there was nothing Saburōta could do to protect her. His father was a large man with a nasty temper, and even though he hated it, his dad wasn't wrong. Saburōta didn't have a prayer in making him stop, and if he tried, he knew it would only mean more problems for his mom. In the end, all he could do was silently hate any man who dared to treat a loving human being like they were insignificant. He wished the tyrant would just go away and leave them alone. He just wanted his mom to stop crying, and even if he never wanted to go back to that place that he felt rejected him continuously, he couldn't leave her to face the pain alone.

"Maybe we should go to sleep now, San-chan."

Saburōta tilted his head, connecting their gazes outside of Shōhei's comprehension. His friend wasn't concerned with sleeping until he saw signs that Saburōta hadn't done so in days. He hated it, the way Shōhei's kind eyes pitied him. It was bad enough that his father thought he was useless, but the look of concern on Shōhei's face made his body tense. "What about the game?" he grumbled lightly.

And just like he always did, Shōhei laughed like he didn't have any further interest. "Ah, that's okay. We died anyway, so I'll just start a new one tomorrow." His smile was bright in the reflection of the screen as he reached for his bed and dragged down a spare pillow. "Besides, I'm kind of tired anyway, aren't you?"

He was lying, and Saburōta knew it. Shōhei had been excited to beat his video game that night, but Saburōta was never very good at it. Even knowing that Shōhei added him to the roster so that he could play too, and now he'd have to start over. Still, he smiled, and it drove Saburōta up the wall. When Shōhei offered him the pillow, he turned away and flopped onto the floor on his side without one. "Fine, let's sleep."

"Shōhei, what did your mother say about the thumping?"

Shōhei winced as he loyally covered for Saburōta's blunder. "Ah! Sorry, Dad! Just cleaning up first!"

Just like that, Saburōta had shut himself up in his thoughts. It always made Shōhei marvel quietly to himself. He knew that Saburōta's life wasn't easy, but even still, he never gave up. Shōhei thought that was pretty brave of his friend.

Realizing that the conversation ended, Shōhei conceded the need to comfort his resilient cohort and instead slipped across the room in his socked feet. Upon his arrival to the closet, he uncovered a spare blanket and returned to drape it over his lifeless comrade.

When Saburōta felt the weight of the blanket fall around his shoulders, his jaw locked around his defiance, and he tensed to keep from trembling as the frightened tears rolled silently over his cheeks beneath the glasses he refused to remove even as he slept. Shōhei always told him that if he didn't stop, one day, his sunglasses were going to become a part of his identity, but he didn't care. He just wanted a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep, and regardless of how angry he was to be taken in by someone as kind and talented as Shōhei, the slightest of comforts warmed his shuddering shoulders until he could finally stop shaking. Maybe one day he'd find a way to thank his friend for all he'd done, but it wasn't that day. All he could do was linger on bitter feelings as he sat insignificantly on the floor, hating how Shōhei abandoned the comfort of his bed to stay near the entire night.

And he'd hated it ever since.

* * *

_**January 26th, 2011 4:23 am**_

The colour had long drained from his lean fingers as they trembled around the blanket that he'd hiked high against his shoulders sometime during the night. Even as the memories faded with the sleep to recall them, Saburōta couldn't get the tension to leave his body. He slowly opened his eyes, half expecting that when he did, his seven-year-old friend would be laying nose-to-nose with him. But he was alone. He had been since he'd ran away from home nearly three years prior.

He rolled onto his back, covering his stinging eyes with his forearm as he flashed his intolerant grimace to the still night. _'How long's it been, and I'm still sleepin' on the damn floor?' _When his arm slumped by his side, he just stared at the ceiling while he felt across the flooring for his phone. It was still dark outside, so he anticipated it was way too early for him to be conscious.

During his search, his roaming fingertips brushed against the delicate frames of his sunglasses, causing him to shudder to attention. He stared at them almost remorsefully after recalling the memories freshly in his dreams. Shōhei was right. Somewhere over the years, hiding his face seemed to become the norm, structuring the painful memories into what he arrogantly claimed became his _identity_. And ever since then, he had found it hard to feel comfortable without them.

With a dismal growl, he swatted their mockery from his sights, snatching up his mobile instead. He barked out an intolerant curse the moment the screen on his PDA illuminated, leaving him blinded temporarily by the high-contrast rays. Sure enough, it wasn't even five in the morning, and he had no interest in waking up, but he also didn't know if he could get back to sleep either. Painful memories of a broken past plagued him, and the last thing he wanted was to linger on them, but they were all he could think of since Shōhei showed up at HOMRA almost two weeks prior.

Before he noticed it, he was scrolling through his phone contacts until his thumb was reluctant to select 'Tsukiyo' from the list. He stared at the name for a long moment, comprehending that he rarely ever used it. _'She said she'd be there, right?'_ He rechecked the time, watching it strike to four-thirty in the morning. He blamed the fact that he was only half-conscious as the reason he foolheartedly made his selection to dial his friend. _'I shouldn't get my hopes up, though. Her damn phone only rings when Totsuka calls her.' _Then again, there was a chance that luck was on his side, for once.

He let the line ring, and ring, knowing that even if he heard the dial tone, her PDA was likely silent somewhere while she slept. He replaced his forearm over his brow, a gentle whine escaping his aching chest as he begged for attention. "Please pick up… Tsukiyo."

In the heart of their shared apartment, Tatara rubbed his weary eyes to the sight of light flashing brightly on the other side of the room. He sat up in bed, turning to peek where Neirah had left her phone face-up on her nightstand sometime before she crawled into bed. "Nei-chan, your phone is-" He silenced a voice that was roughened by sleep, reaching over her delicately peaceful purr instead. Unlike him, Neirah wasn't much of a morning person. His adjusted plan was to answer the call on her behalf, only waking her if it was important enough to risk losing his hand.

After carefully plucking her PDA from the tabletop, he awkwardly shuffled against their bed so as not to disturb her. Once he was sitting up on the opposing ledge, he checked the flashing ID. His kind expression softened fondly to acknowledge the bold characters scribing 'Saburōta' before a flurry of hearts. Without reading too much into the lack of wolf emoji, Tatara swiped his finger across the screen to answer. "Hello! This is Tsukiyo's phone."

Saburōta stiffened, no longer comfortably lingering halfway between stasis. He was fully alert as he sat up in bed, staring vacantly towards his wall when Tatara's sleepy voice picked up in place of the sultry drawl of his anticipated lion. "E-eh…? Totsuka-san?" His spirits instantly dropped to consider why Tatara might be answering Neirah's phone instead. "I-it's Bandō. Did you say this was Tsukiyo's phone?"

A soft concern flooded Tatara's expression as he spoke quietly under his breath. "Is something the matter, San-chan? To call this early-"

On the other end of their conversation, Saburōta did his best to laugh off Tatara's apprehension loudly. "Ah hah! My bad! I meant to dial someone else and must have accidentally dialled Onē-san instead. That was dumb!"

Tatara didn't seem convinced as he stared into the wall covered with pictures Neirah had amassed over the years. There were quite a few of her with her beloved wolf, and Tatara had minor suspicions since the beginning that there was more to their relationship than either would ever admit. Then again, he'd had speculations about any number of their friends, so he tried not to get too hung up on the way their smiles seemed to be just a little brighter when they were together. "She's right here, you know," Tatara finally whispered. "I could easily wake her."

Across town, Saburōta tried to keep his smile displayed even as the pain in his chest threatened to wet his eyes. _'W-why is she right there?' _He couldn't keep the discouragement from twisting his expression into a tight frown._ 'Are they… sleeping in the same room? The same-'_

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Saburōta knew that Tatara was the one speaking, but he heard the words in Neirah's voice, and he was dizzy from being sent down so many lanes of varied memories that morning. Soon, he was back on a beach cowering from the notorious lioness as she spoke the same reassuring sentiment. "N-no, it's fine, really!" he defended with a laugh choking out meeker than he intended. "You know Onē-san hates getting up too early. I should probably be more careful who I call by mistake. Sorry to bother you!"

Without another word, he departed the conversation, but not without leaving traces of his heartache at the forefront of Tatara's mind. Over the last few days, Saburōta had been beyond strung out and acting rashly compared to his typically passive demeanour. It had worried Tatara from the start, and when they discussed it, Neirah had noted that she refused to interfere. Just like she'd never pried answers from Saruhiko. She was an ear for a friend, but only when they wanted it. Maybe Tatara was the king of sticking his nose where it didn't belong, but he didn't want to lose anyone else just because they waited for a day that might not come. Neirah was already pained to be missing Saruhiko, but if Saburōta left, he didn't know if her smile would recover.

He set her phone down on her desk with a heavy heart, promising that he'd have to get to the bottom of things soon. Whatever troubled Saburōta had everything to do with Shōhei's arrival, and it was something that not even Shōhei understood. No matter how many times they asked, Shōhei repeated that he and Saburōta were the best of friends. The strange part was that Tatara didn't doubt him for a second.

A soft sigh escaped him as he rolled over, trying to tug the sheets over his torso when he met with anticipated resistance. His expression grew vacant even as he smiled weakly to himself. "Ah, Nei-chan always steals all the blankets," he muttered bleakly. "Maybe I should just go back to my bed."

But that didn't work. When Neirah was under any amount of stress, like when she worried about her friend struggling outside of her ability to aid him, she slept better back-to-back with Tatara. It seemed like she always needed someone close, or her thoughts corrupted her peaceful state of being. Some scars had just never healed, leaving her with anxiety only he could suppress. So, as Tatara huddled beneath the corner of the sheet she left for him, he was thankful that her body temperature seemed to have stabilized since her trip to Nagasaki. He much appreciated the heat of her shoulders against his as he rested his head and considered the day ahead.

Saburōta didn't throw his phone, but he did let it slip out of his hand until it clattered noisily against the floor. But that was obvious. He didn't know why he was surprised. Since the day they'd met, she was a fantasy.

As he dropped into the mess that he'd made of his sleeping arrangements, he let his arms flop to either side of him like a time not so long ago. He was there, and so was Neirah. They stared up a moonless sky and dared to wonder things that nobody else seemed to take the time to consider. It was warmer then, back when he felt hope. As Saburōta stared into the abyss, hoping for a sign that his week might get better, he knew that he was in for a long day, but he was far from ready.

* * *

"A-ah! Rain, rain!" Neirah darted through the street towards HOMRA with her hands over her head like she thought it might help. "Give me hail instead, something that's going to bounce right back off- eep!" Just as Neirah crashed backwards after colliding with something that indeed bounced off of her, a sturdy, reassuring palm grabbed her wrist and kept her upright. She shuddered out a nervous breath, her eyes already sealed to prepare her for the sickening snap of her fragile foot before help arrived. Or rather, support was already there, and luckily a little securer than she was.

"Whoa, my bad! I didn't see you there!" Shōhei straightened with a friendly smile, gently releasing her as soon as he returned her to her feet. "That was close. It probably wouldn't do me much good to hurt HOMRA's Red Lion while she was still healing, huh?"

"It's you," she murmured mildly. "Where're you off to in such a rush?"

Shōhei sniggered softly and popped his hat off to rest it on the top of her sopping crown. "I'd ask you the same question, but I'm pretty sure you're just trying to stay dry. Here, this should help."

Neirah looked back into his kind expression, trying her hardest to be enchanted by his sincerity. Nothing about his action should have seemed strange. She had stolen her fair share of hats, and been crowned by many for the same thoughtful gesture. Unfortunately, she just couldn't appreciate it yet. Something about him felt off, and maybe she was just paying too much attention to the situation due to Saburōta's unusually high-strung personality over the past few days. Still, even if she ignored that entirely, Shōhei just didn't seem to add up in her mind.

With a sad sigh, Neirah slowly reached to peel his snapback from her brow. It just didn't feel the same on her head as Saburōta's. "I'm almost at Kusanagi-san's, so I won't need to stay dry for much longer," she murmured. "You should keep it if you're going to stay out in the cold for any length of time."

Shōhei almost seemed disheartened to reach out and receive the return of his baseball cap from the reserved woman. "O-oh, I guess you're right," he uttered sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I guess you're probably on Team San-chan for this one, huh? It wouldn't be very good if you walked in there with this on."

When she caught the apprehension in his voice, she quickly shook her head. "That's wrong," she calmly refuted. "I'm not on anybody's side." She said the words even if she wasn't entirely sure she believed them herself. "This conflict he's created ever since you joined can't last. We're a team, all of us. These petty squabbles can't be tolerated."

When Neirah's tone hardened in the form of a command, Shōhei straightened, remembering that he'd heard rumours that Neirah was a member of HOMRA even before Saburōta joined. He immediately felt obligated to respect her word as a type of authority. She was their big sister, and she indeed held an air of superiority when she wanted to. It was enough that the others had respected her. During his short amount of time with HOMRA, he'd learned to appreciate that much. "I really am sorry," he rushed out discouraged. "I swear that San-chan and I were always pretty close. I honestly don't know where this is coming from."

"And I don't care." Neirah noticed him cringing as if her words had just assaulted him, but she couldn't bring herself to be any kinder. "I appreciate that not everyone is meant to get along. I've had my fair share of disagreements with the others from time to time." Neirah's demeanour softened to the flood of memories of putting boys over her head or choking the life from them on the floor. "When Yata-san and I first met, it was literally like locking a cat and a dog in a room together, so I understand." Because her main goal was to reassure him, her tone relaxed as she watched him bashfully put his cap back on top of his head. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd like to hear it from him."

Shōhei lowered his eyes, and his expression humbled like a child scolded by his mother. It was clear to her that he carried a great deal of respect for women in authority. "No, that makes sense," he agreed. "You and San-chan are pretty close, aren't you? He was pretty protective over you that first day."

Neirah finally flashed the man a kind smile. "I'm afraid you're going to notice that most of the boys are pretty defensive of their girls, not just Wolf-kun," she teased. Before she let him sigh a moment of reprieve, her humour faded slightly with the return of her sincerity. "And I care a lot about them too. This is my home, and when somebody new arrives, they have to find their place among the chaos. I hope you find yours too. I think you're a very nice person, and one day, I hope you can understand what makes you assume these things."

After flashing her an appreciative smile, Shōhei bowed out of the conversation. "Well, I should get going. I've kinda got somewhere I've gotta be, and I've already kept you out in the rain for long enough," he gently assured her. "Sorry again for bumping into you! I'll see you later, okay?"

A genuine fondness found Neirah's lips as she smiled at him. "Of course." After watching him bound away, Neirah sighed and glanced the sky draining over her head. There was no sense in trying to protect herself now. The cold soaked her through to the bone and made her foot ache as she carried on her intended path. _'Poor guy,'_ she mused sadly. The front door to the bar felt heavy as she heaved on it, causing her body to shudder when she forced her damp clothes to stick to her skin beneath. _'I honestly don't think he's a bad person, so why is Wolf-kun so-?'_

"Damn it! How embarrassing!"

Neirah stepped through the entryway wet enough to wring out as Saburōta raised his voice and kicked a table onto its side in protest. What he was protesting, she didn't know yet. She took a step into the warm storefront, her shivering presence attracting minimal attention as she slunk up next to Rikio. Together, they watched Misaki retaliate against Saburōta's fit of impatience, the young vanguard appropriately treating Saburōta like the table that he had just upturned.

"Shut the hell up!" Misaki barked intolerantly. "I'm gettin' real sick and tired of your shit!"

Without shifting her eyes from the sight of Izumo approaching the feuding boys, Neirah reached up and jerked on Rikio's sleeve to indicate her desires. "Ri-chan, give me your clothes."

Finally, taking note of Neirah's presence, Rikio's tone flattened with bemusement. _E-eh?!_

"Please undress quickly. I am very cold."

A dull groan rattled in Rikio's chest as he unzipped his hoodie and surrendered it to the frigid woman, who immediately began to purr upon reception. "I should really start bringing a spare during cold months," he grumbled.

"Arigatō," she cooed. Then, the pair cringed to the sight of Izumo, carting off Saburōta and hammering him into a seat at the bar despite his petrified whimpers. "And you all thought that it was bad when I dragged him off by his _hood_."

"So scary," Rikio muttered bleakly. He stepped from the door to avoid the chill of the rain seeping into the store since he'd surrendered a layer. "I understand where Nē-chan gets it from now."

Neirah cut her impatient leer towards her comrade's insinuation. "That was rude."

"I saw nothing," Misaki muttered vacantly.

Rolling her eyes, Neirah strode past the pair, hiking up the sleeves of Rikio's sweater as she crossed through the bar. "Onii-chan, I brought my premium sencha from home. I'm going to go make a pot of tea to try and take the chill off."

Izumo didn't lift his eyes from where he'd left Saburōta clamouring uneasily in his seat. "Fine. Just make sure you clean up after yourself."

Being equally as undisrupted by his command, Neirah cooed softly and bound her hair on top of her head, actively ignoring the way Saburōta silently pleaded for her assistance. It was time for a little tough love. "Anna-chan," she called. "I was considering making strawberry tarts, would you like to help?"

_Hai!_ Anna quickly popped out of her seat, fleeing Tatara's presence to help Neirah in the kitchen. When she made it to Neirah's side, she looked up at the brunette with wondrous eyes. "Nē-san, are you not worried about him?"

_Hm?_ Neirah tilted over her shoulder with a kind smile. "You mean Wolf-kun?" Her smile broadened as Anna gave a series of gentle nods. "Of course, I am. That's why the tarts are going to be strawberry flavoured."

"I like strawberry."

Neirah led the gentle Strain into the kitchen with an appreciative smile. "That too."

"Oi," Izumo interrupted. As soon as the girls disappeared through the door, he raised his voice until they could hear his stern warning from outside the door. "The last time you girls were alone in there, all hell broke loose. The next time I need something in that kitchen, I don't wanna see a single thing out of place."

Since she'd begun to wear flat-heeled shoes, Neirah hadn't taken the time to appreciate how close to Anna's height she was. She shared a gentle giggle with the girl before nuzzling the tips of their noses. "Onii-chan is just jealous that we're better bakers than he is."

Once she'd set her pot to boil, she removed a carton of fresh strawberries from the fridge. "Okay, Anna-chan. I need you to pick out the best berries in this basket so we can make the loveliest tarts that anyone has ever seen. And maybe if we have extras, Onii-chan can put them on his dessert menu for supper!"

"Okay."

One traditional pastime that HOMRA's ladies enjoyed indulging in was baking treats for their friends, and while they diligently prepared their delicacy, they overheard the conversation to take place outside. Unlike what he'd promised the day before, Saburōta had gone against his word and wound up consuming alcohol under Izumo's inspiration. Despite Tatara's warning reminding Izumo of what happened when he and Anna had tried to loosen their friend up, Izumo passed Saburōta his first of many drinks as time ticked on.

Neirah had sent Anna back out to the bar while she waited for their treats to finish baking, but unfortunately, the distraction hadn't helped her any. Her heart was still heavy with the realization that even after she offered, her aching friend hadn't come to her for help. In the end, the only way they'd gotten any answers out of him was stuffing him under the influence. And boy, could that man rave when he was intoxicated. She had only seen glimpses of the tail end when Misaki had rescued her from Tomaya and his mafioso connections a couple of years back. Even then, Saburōta had still proclaimed his undying affection for her and named their firstborn.

That part made her laugh. Saburōta had a clumsy tongue sometimes, and she always found that aspect of him rather charming. Unfortunately, when she heard the timer ding on her tarts, she began to lose patience with her troubled friend's griping outside the door. She tried not to break any of the delicate pastry bases as she slapped the hot tray on the countertop, smacking her oven mitts down beside them before one of her brows twitched. She spooned the snacks onto a plate, too impatient to let them cool before shuffling herself out of the kitchen and into their conversation. If she heard Saburōta utter another woman's name one more time-

"That bastard didn't even like Saya-chan, but he kissed her anyway!" was what she walked out to a wolf howling. Saburōta clutched his head and dropped his face onto the bar with a defeated groan. She assumed that was one of many reasons why this Shōhei fellow wasn't any good, by Saburōta's reckoning. "He actually hit on a girl that he didn't even like! Cocky bastard…"

"This is something from kindergarten, right?" Izumo muttered flatly. It wasn't the first time he felt like a part-time therapist in his profession. "Do we have to go back that far?"

"And then!" Saburōta interrupted. "I chased after him to ask why he'd kissed Saya-chan, and he said it was because she wanted to kiss him!"

Izumo was instantly regretting the addition of alcohol to the mix as he listened to Saburōta continue to prattle. "Girls sure do mature at a young age, don't they?"

The butt of Saburōta's fist crashed against the bar top with a percussive bang to the mere insinuation. "Don't talk about Saya-chan like she was some sort of lewd girl!"

"No-no, I didn't say that," Izumo defended mildly. "No need to raise your voice again."

"What's this now?" Neirah's impatient glower met the meerkat expression of Saburōta, who poked his head up to the sound of her voice, but her demeanour was anything but sympathetic. She had one hand on her hip, her second spread beneath a silver tray lined with fresh tarts. Little did he know, she was preparing to clobber him with it. She was too busy focussing intently on Saburōta's response to care that Rikio had scalded his fingertips on one of her offerings.

"Hot!" Rikio hissed ruefully.

Neirah jerked the tray away from him with a bitter snort, narrowly stifling the need to follow through by bouncing it off Saburōta's thick skull. "Don't be ridiculous, Ri-chan. They just came out of the oven." She crossed the bar, leaving the tray between them all as she served one of the prettiest offerings to their princess with fresh cream. "Be careful, Anna-chan, it's hot."

"I gave you my sweater," Rikio whined through his betrayal.

Neirah straightened, allowing Anna to blow on her treat before daring to take her first nibble. Once she had, Neirah's attention focussed solely on her weepy friend. "And just who is this Saya-chan?"

Without the second thought that usually stopped him from acting so clingy to his sadistic queen, Saburōta latched onto Neirah's arm and sobbed into Rikio's sweater sleeve. "N-nobody! Saya-chan is nobody like my Nē-san."

"So shallow," Izumo groaned. "It's like his true feelings only come out when he's drunk."

"Moron, you literally _just_ gave Kusanagi-san hell over talkin' shit about her," Misaki grumbled. He reached out and took one of Neirah's delicious smelling treats and tried to settle his nerves, chomping down on the delicate offering with no regard to table manners. "Would it be wrong for me to beat a guy who can't stand?"

Neirah cast Misaki a hard glance that had him immediately apologizing as she clutched Saburōta's head to her chest and gently patted it. "There, there, I won't let him hurt you," she cooed. "Wolf-kun is mine and only mine."

_Huh…_ Tatara's smile was whimsical as he lingered on the other side of their whimpering comrade. "I didn't know wolves purred."

"Is that what he's doing?" Izumo noted skeptically.

"Fuckin' creepy," Misaki growled. "Don't tell me it's because of somethin' like this that you've held a grudge for this long."

"Of course not!" Saburōta spun out of Neirah's protective embrace but kept one arm wrapped around her comfort as he addressed Misaki's insinuation. "There's more! First grade, when we were playing tag, everyone wanted Shōhei on their team, but no one wanted me!"

"Ah, why is that Shōhei's fault?" Izumo pried.

"In sports, he was the one who shined the most, always showing off-" Saburōta slumped over with a defeated groan, comforted only by the way Neirah rubbed her tender touch between his hunched shoulders. "He was the most popular… always the centre of attention." He sniffled and lowered his tone. "I mean, it's true that I was kinda nerdy, but at least I was good at sports."

"The only person I will ever need on my team is my Wolf-kun," Neirah sang fondly.

On the other side of her, Tatara's smile was locked falsely on his face as he stared back at her betrayed. "H-hah, but what about me, Nei-chan?"

"Hush!" she hissed. "I'm comforting my beloved."

"You're not helping," Izumo scolded impatiently. He eased his long reach over the bar and picked Saburōta out of Neirah's adoring embrace to square him up in his seat. He didn't think that Neirah's way of comforting Saburōta was entirely appropriate given their circumstance, so he struggled to reclaim the boy's attention. "I'm telling you; your hatred is one-sided."

Suddenly, bolstered by the confidence of his future wife's indulgent care, Saburōta sprang from his seat with an enthusiastic cheer. "But, here, I am the senpai! I'm awesome and way better than him."

Izumo's low growl cautioned Neirah that when everything was said and done, she was in big trouble. "I can't deal with this kid right now," he groaned. "Why did she have to go and make it worse?"

Nearby, Misaki triggered, and all the delicious sweets in the world couldn't calm his wrath. He chased Saburōta to his feet, shouting over the ruckus with the utmost determination. "That's too insignificant!" he commanded. "Even if we ignore the fact that you're so damn full of yourself and just consider what it's like to be a decent human being, that's still too insignificant! Stop your fucking whining, you pathetic bastard!"

"Yata-san!" Neirah threw her hand out towards Misaki's interruption, but its threat somewhat diminished as it vanished behind the loose material of the hoodie that was ten sizes too big for her. "I will _not_ tolerate any aggression towards my Wolf-kun!"

"Don't try to defend him!" Misaki spat. "You heard what he just said! He's bein' an asshole for no good reason, and you know it!"

From between the hollering over his head, Saburōta meekly touched his forefingers together. "But… there's still a lot more reasons. Like second grade when he-"

"Cut the crap already!" Misaki snarled. "Everyone here agrees that you're actin' like a petty-ass little shit right now!" As soon as Neirah opened her mouth, Misaki flew across the bar and tackled her, stifling her intended defence. "Even Tsukiyo agrees!"

When Neirah was unable to leap to his defence, Saburōta turned his sheepish expression towards where Izumo was desperate to meet him halfway despite his outlandish claims. "Is it no good?" Saburōta murmured sadly. "Too insignificant?"

Rikio ignored Misaki's bitter howl as Neirah chomped on his hand and turned her ire towards his interference. "Yata-san is right," Rikio rumbled evenly. "It's pretty insignificant."

From where Anna continued to pick away at her pastry, she gave her head one slow nod. "Insignificant."

Tatara sighed when Saburōta's attention slipped towards him, and before answering that he agreed with the majority of their gathering, he quickly spun to offer Anna another strawberry tart. "Anna-chan, would you like seconds?"

The Strain calmly nodded her head, dismissing the petty raving of their drunken companion.

"Damn it!" Saburōta dropped his head against the rosewood, burying it in his arms as he clasped the material of his hood tightly between trembling fingers. "I knew it… you're all on _his_ side," he sobbed. "E-even Onē-san thinks he's perfect…"

Neirah palmed Misaki's face, shoving his blushing, aggravated mess away so she could return to Saburōta's side, gently slipping her arm around his tense shoulders. "I said he was nice, not perfect," she reasoned kindly. When Misaki opened his mouth to scold her, her intense stare locked with his, and she slowly shook her head. After appreciating her subtle hint that she noticed their friend was beginning to feel the effects of sobriety, he reined in his temper and took the other side of their heartbroken friend.

_Ah…_ Misaki snorted derisively and gave Saburōta's shoulder a firm pat. "Hey," he instigated dryly. "Hey, come on. Don't be such a baby." When Saburōta didn't rise, he softened his tone moderately with concern. "What does it matter if Shōhei's kind of fun? I mean, we're all pals here, aren't we? Why can't you two just bite the bullet already? I mean, you were friends at some point, right?" When Saburōta didn't answer, Misaki diverted his sheepish gaze to the feeling of guilt catching up with him. "Look at it this way, if Tsukiyo and I can learn how to get along, I'm sure you and Shōhei can too."

Once the alcohol began to wear off, Saburōta was reserved again and acting just as lonely as he ever did. When Neirah comprehended that she wasn't going to get much more out of him, she gently reached for her tray, sternly swatting Rikio's greedy fingers away from the sugar-dusted treats, so that he didn't eat every last one. "Bandō, baby, I made tarts." Her insides tangled when she felt him tense further like something that she said had made him uncomfortable. "They're strawberry…" She dragged one of the warm treats across the bar top and gave him a gentle nudge. "Anna-chan picked out the perfect berries, so they should be sweet."

She almost sighed a rush of relief when his clumsy fingers reached from his nesting arms bundled beneath his head. He didn't let his company peek his still hidden face, but he did retract the offering back into his comfort zone.

The effort also made Misaki smile even as he outwardly snorted. "Jeez, you're such a damn dork."

Then, after what seemed to be a moment of contemplation, Saburōta slowly stumbled to his feet, doing his best to keep them under himself. When he finally revealed his face, his dessert was clamped carefully between his teeth so that both of his hands could steady his attempt at standing.

His instability caused a gentle tut to escape Neirah's worried lips as he gave her a grateful pat on the head before sauntering towards the front door. Sometime during his departure, she caught one of his arms raising to grab the second bite of tart to remain when he sampled her culinary skills. Still, he didn't otherwise communicate anything positive. "Wolf-kun?" She was moments from standing when she felt the pressure of Izumo's hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to stay behind.

"I know you're worried, but I think he's gonna need a bit to sort this out on his own," Izumo reasoned soundly. "He's obviously feeling insecure since Shōhei showed up, but I don't think this is the sort of behaviour we should be supporting either."

Neirah lowered her eyes, heartbroken that her efforts were inadequate. Since the day she'd met him, she wanted to praise her unlikely hero, commend his bravery when she was in danger and just thank him for his unyielding loyalty. Maybe she didn't want to pick sides, but that was because she knew she was biased, and that was just as intolerable. HOMRA was a single indomitable unit, and she appreciated that as often as she preached the reality. She felt it the most when Misaki knocked shoulders with her, giving her a bashful nudge to jar her out of her thoughts.

"You know it would do you no good to chase off after him with your foot all messed up," Misaki reasoned as tenderly as the abrasive vanguard could manage. "He'll come back. It won't take him long to sober up with all that rain outside."

"I just hope he doesn't get sick," she murmured dismally. "He can be so irresponsible sometimes."

"Oh, and you can't?" Izumo sassed spiritedly. "I'm sure he'll get a taste of whatever's out there and come crawlin' right back."

Neirah's flustered pout intensified as she turned her wrathful glower towards his instigation. "He's a wolf, not a cat," she commanded. "Dogs don't mind water as much as we do, and their tails will wag even if they're sick!" After another low growl rumbled in her throat, she flopped her front over the bar to snatch her baked goods away from Rikio. "I said enough!" she thundered. "Save some for Onii-san's customers!"

"You can't just make them this good and not share!" Rikio whined. "And Anna-chan got two."

"Nice try," she snapped. "I watched you steal three more while I was comforting Wolf-kun." She snorted to his look of guilt as it flooded his face. "That's right. I wasn't _that_ absorbed."

Misaki let an easy laugh interrupt their banter. "Wow, Tsukiyo, you kinda do act like everyone's big sister, don't cha?"

"Don't start with me," she cautioned gravely.

"Ah, I'm just sayin'," he pondered. "It's kinda cute-"

Even Anna joined Izumo, Tatara and Neirah in throwing her eyes towards Misaki's immediately repentant expression boiling with shame.

"I-I did n-not mean to say that…"


	43. Kudos

**Kudos**

* * *

"I told you that dogs don't mind water as much as cats do." Neirah stared out the window, her breath fogging the glass pane as she pressed her padded paws to the storefront. "He didn't come back."

"Neirah, get down from the window. You'll scare all the customers away," Izumo reprimanded sternly. After the woman obediently flopped into her seat by the window ledge grumbling something about _what customers_, he returned his attention to where he'd begun to count the glasses their clanmate emptied during his rant. "Honestly… After drinking so much, just where did he run off to?" He sighed and set the empty glasses in a bin with every intension on bringing the mess to the kitchen later on. "That guy…"

"This is all Onii-chan's fault," Neirah huffed intolerantly. "You know what Wolf-kun is like when he drinks."

"In Kusanagi-san's defence, it was the only way to get him to talk," Tatara added optimistically. "And I didn't expect his reasons to be quite so-"

"Insignificant?" Izumo and Neirah chimed together.

Tatara forced his smile to remain, but he couldn't help feeling that the effort was a little sarcastic. "That's right."

"I worry about him." Neirah's whisper was filled with melancholy as she watched raindrops drip down the windowpane. "I can't believe that it's been so long, and he's still a mystery to me."

"That was unexpected," Izumo murmured curiously. He subtly glanced the vision of her moping by the cold window with a sombre look on her face. "You two seem to spend a lot of time together. What is it that you talk about?"

"Nonsense, typically," she admitted with a dismissive shrug. She didn't take her eyes off the empty street as she waited for signs that her pet would return home before too long. "Like why lions roar, things like that. He keeps his secrets, and he never asked about mine, so I guess there's been this barrier here all along that just never came down." Her stomach roiled as she surrendered to the stigma, making her feel like she was never close to him at all.  
"It… makes me wonder if this Shōhei fellow knows these things that he doesn't want the rest of us to figure out. Maybe he's afraid he's going to tell us all his secrets."

"But maybe he doesn't feel that those things are important. His reasons certainly aren't anything detrimental." Tatara spun in his seat to face where Neirah's voice began to fill with a longing that she hadn't exhibited before, and he wondered if it didn't have something to do with why she hadn't slept right since Shōhei had joined their ranks. "You said it yourself, you only talk about nonsense and steal his things-"

"I didn't say that."

"Ah, but we all know it happens," Tatara cooed fondly. "So, I don't think you should feel bad that this took you by surprise too. It's obviously between the two of them."

"But-"

"Besides, you saw how hard it was to get him to talk to us tonight," Tatara reasoned kindly. "Maybe all those times you think you're talking about random nonsense, that's when you're actually communicating the most important things."

Neirah immediately silenced to the sound sense her best friend threw out for her to choke on. It was true, sometimes their conversations had her feeling a little foolish afterwards, but when she thought about them, she wondered if she hadn't been missing things that he was trying to tell her all along. As somebody who had preached the importance of communication time and time again, she couldn't believe that Saburōta was the only one she seemed to fall short on without noticing. It made her consider that the barriers restricting them from hearing each other out had nothing to do with the words they couldn't speak.

Suddenly, her cheeks ignited to express her guilty thoughts, and her gaze immediately returned to the window to the sight of somebody rushing towards the building, but it wasn't Saburōta. She figured Masaomi wasn't entirely pleased with the deluge. The only thing the man hated more than unbearable heat was soggy clothes.

When Izumo caught the sight of Neirah standing, he didn't bother raising his gaze before commanding her attention. "Don't even think about it," he rumbled callously. "Just last week, Bandō had to carry you back here because of that damn foot. Just let him do his thing."

Neirah rolled her eyes and threw her disapproving scowl towards the strict bartender. "Maybe I just wanted to go for a leisurely stroll in the rain."

"To use Totsuka's trick on you a second time, you said it yourself." It seemed to work well the first time. "Cats hate the rain, so sit down and wait out the storm." And he meant that in more ways than one.

"Gah! I should have gone with Ri-chan and Yata when they asked!"

"Why?" Izumo pestered. "So, you could come back here stinkin' like wet-dog?"

"Get out of my head!" she raged.

Izumo watched Neirah silently screech, jerking on two thick clumps of hair that framed her face as she rushed her disapproval through gritted teeth. The moment Masaomi walked in nearby, Izumo was about to tell him to throw the riled brunette over his shoulder to make sure she didn't get out from under them. That was when he noticed how unexpectedly sober the man looked as he focussed on steadying his rushing breath. Izumo was gearing up to instigate the fact that someone else didn't like the rain when Masaomi finally opened his mouth to justify his mad-dash.

"Kusanagi-san! Totsuka-san! It's Shōhei…"

Suddenly, the three expressions nearby matched the sobriety in Masaomi's, and as badly as they wanted to prod for answers, they felt it was considerate to let him catch his breath first. That was when Neirah felt torn down the centre. Every part of her still wanted to chase after a dear friend while another was gagging on the same philosophy that she'd just spewed that afternoon. She wasn't picking sides. She couldn't. The way the situation presented itself was pretty apparent in her eyes. Saburōta was throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child, no matter how much pain he was hiding behind petty reasons. But the way Masaomi announced himself made it sound like what Shōhei faced was worth far more consideration. Accepting that hard reality, she slowly took a step away from the doorway and began to approach her friends gathering at the bar.

As quickly as he'd recovered, Masaomi moved towards his superiors with his PDA in hand. He used the back of his sleeve to wipe the condensation from the screen for the temperature change, but when his attempt to use his soaking coat arm failed, Neirah hurried towards him and offered a dry napkin. Without thanks, but not absent gratitude, Masaomi cleared the screen properly and slid into his photo cache.

When Masaomi located a picture of a pretty woman smiling brightly in the frame, Izumo took notice. "Who's the girl?" he murmured cautiously. "She's mighty pretty."

"This girl is Shōhei's friend, Tashiro Sora-chan," Masaomi calmly explained. "I heard that she fell into that man, Rakshasa's, schemes a little while back. Even now, she's still stuck with him serving as some sorta lackey." Masaomi initiated the sleep sequence on his mobile but kept his eyes downcast long after it blackened. "Chitose and I bumped into her just the other day, and you know how he is. Tried to pick her up, and when she acted like a complete basket case, we thought we should probably investigate."

A gentle hum of consideration sounded from within Tatara as he contemplated the information he'd just received. "Then, I guess it's safe to assume that the reason why Shōhei joined with us was that he needed the strength to rescue her."

Neirah's heart was in knots as she considered the situation that struck close to home. There was a day years ago when she was forced to carry out the will of a shady master once too, because who would suspect a beautiful young woman of such heinous crimes? She was so absorbed in her sudden rush of hate that she didn't bother mocking Izumo for being hypocritical when he sat on his polished countertop.

"Rakshasa…" Neirah repeated lowly. "I don't recognize that name. It must have been a clan that the Raikōjū Ka didn't disagree with too often." She raised her eyes to meet Masaomi's with a troubled expression on her face. "Do you have any idea what the nature of their crimes is?"

After lowering his guilty expression, Masaomi slowly shook his head. "Nah, this is all we got so far," he subtly apologized. "But the girl was too skittish to be anythin' like you. My guess is they use her to move product between clients or something."

"Rakshasa, huh?" Izumo picked a cigarette from the small carton he carried before catching it between his teeth. He considered the name carefully, recalling other times where he'd heard it come up in conversation with various informants. "Aren't they a pretty infamous group of drug dealers? The kid could be a runner or somethin'. That would make sense that you didn't have many interactions with them, too, Neirah. The Raikōjū Ka focussed a lot of their power on human trafficking crimes."

Neirah's teeth ground as she woke Masaomi's phone up to observe the picture of the Sora a second time, meeting her large, kind eyes with a heavy heart. "I'll tell you this much. I wouldn't suspect a beautiful young lady like that of carrying something so foul."

Catching the sight of Neirah's trembling fingers clenching his screen, Masaomi quickly tugged on the device to free it of her grasp. "Oi, careful, Nē-chan. That's my phone!"

"I'm so sick of degenerates abusing innocence in this town!" Neirah roared intolerantly. "These creeps take the hopes and dreams of kind-hearted people only to twist it into something condemning that could cost them their lives!"

"Now, now, Lion-chan," Tatara hummed considerately. "I think you're missing something else that's pretty important here." Once Neirah had settled next to Masaomi, Tatara straightened in his seat and met their upset gazes. "If Shōhei thinks anything like Nei-chan does, then there's a pretty good chance that he's already made his decision."

"So that guy's planning on goin' solo and killing everyone in his way?" Masaomi finished perceptively. "Is he nuts? Even for one of us, that could be dangerous, and we're used to our powers. That's why we usually move in pairs, right? What's he thinking going out there on his own like that?"

"So that's youth, is it?" Izumo turned away and let his disheartened gaze vacantly scan the empty bar. Due to the weather, he hadn't had many customers that day, and something told him that he wouldn't break any hearts if he closed up early. "If our people were the type to go crazy once they gained power, that would be a major headache. Strength always comes with responsibility."

"Then, what should we do?" Tatara instigated kindly.

Izumo turned and let his eyes meet Tatara's, his thoughts wild as he considered the situation at hand. "Well, I guess that depends…"

"Doing wrong even with the best of intentions is still wrong, and a kind heart will recognize that." After attracting their attention, Neirah felt her jaw lock around her unpleasant whisper. "And if you're forced to bear that guilt on your own, it festers and grows until it becomes an irreparable part of you."

"Neirah, I think you're taking this a little too personally," Izumo reasoned. "I'm sure he's strong enough to pull through-"

"I'm not doing this because I think he's weak!" The words that rang in Neirah's ears weren't her own as she rushed them out to silence their insinuations. "I'm doing it because… I want to be his friend. I want us all to be friends so that we can smile and laugh together. I want that girl to be able to keep smiling and laughing with her friends too. I want everyone to know the kind of happiness that I found that night when HOMRA saved my life." She finally raised glassy blue eyes towards Izumo and begged his consideration. "I know that Shōhei is a good person, and maybe that's all I know about him right now, but these monsters take good people and destroy them. Even if he's strong enough to pull it off, it's not fair to abandon him face that fate on his own."

Neirah swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering the night she first looked up at Izumo when he wanted to shake her hand, and suddenly, she flashed an understanding smiled. "Besides, I already have blood on my hands."

A delicate tut popped past her lips to remind her to take another breath when she felt Masaomi slip his hand on her head. "We all do," he assured her kindly. "And I don't think Kusanagi-san wants to see him fix this on his own or anythin', but you need to relax. You're still getting over your injuries."

Neirah immediately spun beneath Masaomi's warm palm and connected her near-lethal glower with Izumo. "Kusanagi-san, you are _not_ leaving me behind!"

"That's not up to me. It's up to your king," he retorted bluntly.

The room was still for one more breath before Neirah attempted to scramble away in the same instant that Izumo vaulted from the bar to rush towards the staircase. "Dewa, hold her." As soon as the order came, Neirah felt the restricting grip of her traitorous companion holding her back as she tried to scramble after her superior. "I wanna get my side of the story out first."

"No! You can't leave me! I won't stay!" she wailed. "King-samaaa!"

"It's for your own good," Masaomi cautioned her gently. "You know you get too involved in things like this, and you're in no condition to fight."

"Dewa-kun, don't make me hurt you!"

There was a solemn furrow in Masaomi's brow as he watched her struggle without success. "Honestly, I think you and I both know that if you could, I'd be on my back right now." His grip on her strengthened as she gave one final push for freedom, but he was careful to be gentle with his restraint. "Just calm down and let Mikoto-san handle it, okay? You'll be good as new soon enough."

Neirah felt the bitter tears bubbling behind her tapered leer as her body went limp in Masaomi's embrace. _Soon_. She knew that someday soon, things would go back to normal, and she could smile, laugh and fight with the team that meant more to her than they could ever understand. "I don't want to be left behind…"

"Sorry, Nē-chan…"

When Neirah was tame enough to release, Masaomi quietly let her shrug off his contact entirely, and that was when he noticed that Tatara was quietly sliding his arms through his jacket. He opened his mouth to address the man, and when he did, he met the sight of Tatara raising his finger to his lips to plead silence. The only reason Masaomi could see Tatara doing something like that was that he was going out in search of someone else he thought would care to understand Shōhei's situation.

* * *

_**Sometime later…**_

It had been a while since Neirah had felt so light as she walked through blood-stained hallways of the warehouse in her king's shadow. Then again, it was also strange to be doing so silently. She hadn't grown accustomed to regular shoes that didn't boldly announce her presence as she neared, not that anyone seemed to be left alive to hear her. Bodies littered the passages as they infiltrated the known whereabouts of the Rakshasa behind Shōhei, and her worry began to stir. His methods were undoubtedly messy, and she wondered if he ever had apprehensions to killing. It was an unsettling thought making her consider that was why he didn't add up in her head.

'_Did he do this all on his own?'_ she thought grimly. Though, she considered that if one of her friend's lives were on the line, she wouldn't show mercy either. If she thought about it hard enough, she supposed she would have made his massacre look a sham. It just struck her by surprise when she recalled his kind smile offering up his ballcap to her earlier that day, but then she wondered if he didn't see her in the same innocent light. Monsters were born the moment you threatened something they loved.

It hadn't taken long to convince Mikoto to move on the Rakshasa, with him being so bored, and all. But even if he wasn't, there was trouble in his territory requiring their attention. It had been a while since they'd moved freely on mortal targets with Reisi and his nagging SCEPTRE4 looming overhead, but with the way Shōhei seemed to rush in, there was no turning back. All they could do was cover up his mess, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.

It reminded Neirah of a simpler time. When something was wrong, they rewrote it until it felt right to them. Maybe their efforts were a little unorthodox, but as a salvaged product of their recklessness, she was thankful for every dream they protected by spilling black blood. And by the looks of things, Shōhei had drained a lot of it, leaving it to stain floors and paint walls on his path to Sora. It was apparent that he wasn't helpless.

"Do you still think he's going to have a problem with the guilt?" When Neirah turned her disapproving leer towards Izumo's menacing instigation, he smirked and picked his package of cigarettes from inside his jacket pocket. "Guess there wasn't much of a reason for you to come, after all, was there?"

"Act bitter all you want," she growled. "But King-sama said I could."

"Would you two shut up already?" Groaning, Mikoto didn't bother looking over his shoulder as he followed the bloody trail of limp bodies leading to the end of the hall where he thought he could hear idle murmuring on the other side of a partially opened door. "I think I hear somethin'."

Trying her hardest to stay glued to Mikoto's thigh, Anna haphazardly reached for his coat while calm eyes scanned the massacre around her. "There's so much red," she murmured. After raising a crimson marble in front of her left eye, she gave the building a quick scan before coming to rest her vision on the doorway to catch Mikoto's attention. "There's two…"

The guilt on Tatara's face was palpable as he tried to demean her mild statement. "H-hah, stay close, Anna-chan," Tatara whispered under his breath. His smile was gentle as he laid his touch against the girl's shoulder to encourage her to stay back as they advanced through the building. To this, the devoted Strain adhered herself to Mikoto further, causing Tatara to sigh his defeat. "Well, I suppose that is close…"

Misaki shifted his incredulous gaze between Mikoto and Anna, picking up on the tension exuding from their mutual concern. It was clear that they knew something that the remainder of their company didn't, and that unsettled Misaki, who was unaffected by Tatara's attempted distraction. "Anna-chan… what did you mean when you said that there's two? Two of what?"

"San-chan!"

Suddenly, Neirah's ears perked, her wild eyes darting towards the parted doorway where she heard Shōhei call out his alarm. "W-wait… but that-" Her heart dropped, her head spinning to comprehend what might be happening on the other side of the partition. Her first instinct was to rush forward, but upon anticipating this, Mikoto's hand was already pressed against her collar to warn her not to act boldly in her current condition. He'd let her come along, but with the promise that she would be cautious. In honour of that promise, she retracted her eager step before he even had to divert his eyes from the target ahead. "D-does that mean that Wolf-kun went with him?"

Neirah sealed her eyes tight, her fists balling by her hips. She missed her chain, but without ankle strength, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it properly. She wanted to know what was taking so long, why Mikoto was stalling after Shōhei's voice had cut through the building filled with devastation. _'What if he's hurt?'_ she thought painstakingly. _'What if he needed me to chase after him, but I didn't, and now he's-'_

'_No… Please…'_

In a room surrounded by enemies with his childhood friend, Saburōta felt the burn of his injuries in every muscle just before they ceased functioning altogether. He dropped in front of Shōhei, no matter how badly he wanted to stay upright, but he'd proven his point. "Didn't I say it earlier?" The pain ripped through his right arm into his shoulder, and he was sure the only thing that didn't feel broken was his legs, up until he dropped to his knees in front of the attack to cripple his defences. He wanted to clutch his wounded arm that had just suffered a shattering blow from a steel pipe to protect his partner, but it seemed unlikely that it was going to help. "You see, y-you're not by yourself anymore…"

From one lone wolf to another to be passed on to the next, Saburōta felt his chest ache with the sudden rush of belonging he used to fight to achieve. He wondered when it had become so easy, when every day saw him included in something bigger than he ever thought imaginable. And at that very moment, he truly felt insignificant for refusing to see it sooner. It wasn't about their strengths or weaknesses. It was about finding a place where even damaged hearts could belong, hearts like his. "Your comrades aren't something that come on the side."

One day he promised that he would thank Shōhei for all those nights that his friend had slept on the floor just to help a broken heart heal, and at that moment, he did, in his trademark clumsy way. Saburōta wasn't good with admitting his feelings, but there wasn't a friend in his life that day that he wouldn't bleed to defend, so that's what he did. Sometimes they blundered, and the words didn't come out right, but sometimes communicating meant more than the words you couldn't say.

'_Thanks for puttin' up with me.'_

Shōhei received the message, the promise that no matter what difficulties they faced, as long as they were together, they'd heal. Saburōta had demonstrated that truth when he sacrificed his body for Shōhei's life, proving that not even his own was more important than a friend. It was worth every scar, every bruise and every wasted save-file on a classic console to know that someone cared, and someone would continue to care until they took their last breath.

When Saburōta stumbled weakly forward into his lap, Shōhei took a moment to comprehend the grave situation they'd found themselves in. "You… What are you saying…?" Saburōta was in bad shape, and Sora sat just on the other side of their enemies bound to a chair with petrified eyes watching the scene unfold. The mobsters had taped her mouth to muffle her screams, but Shōhei could hear them as loud as the promise of a friend barely clinging to consciousness in his lap. The situation was spiralling out of control, but he couldn't give up. Saburōta hadn't given up. There were two people nearby that needed him to push forward despite every fear and ache in his battered body. He couldn't fail.

Brash laughter echoed in the musty room, ringing off the piping snaking through the ceiling as innocent life lingered hanging in the balance, Sora's life, Saburōta's life. A seedy gangster palmed the top of the gagged Sora's head, jerking it to one side as he fisted the handle of his boot knife tightly in his grip and used its tip to pinch her pulse. "So, you don't care what happens to this woman?!"

Sora's wild eyes met Shōhei's filled with pain and terror as she remained bound to the chair her bosses had strung her up to just before her fallen heroes arrived. Shōhei would recall the sight as fear like he'd never seen on anyone's face. It was fear that begged someone to turn back time because the life beating frantically beneath her chest wasn't ready to fade as her captors spilled her blood. _'No, Sora, I'm sorry I couldn't save you.'_ That realization welled in his chest as he clenched his fingers in Saburōta's jacket until his desperate roar cut over the sounds of her muffled squeals. "Stop!"

Shōhei was vaguely aware of the way Sora's captor wailed agony the moment his face combusted, but the flames were so sporadically thick that their sudden eruption seemed to attract the brunt of his attention. Saburōta was in his lap, barely hanging on, and as the only other flame user in the room-

"S-sorry…" Saburōta weakly raised his eyes to where he looked past Shōhei's confusion into the reassuring sight of his king and clan joining their battle. "I'll leave it… to you."

Through his heavy sigh, Izumo snapped his lighter open and ignited the tip of the fresh cigarette he'd dug out of his pocket before they entered the room. There were about a dozen men left, which wasn't bad. The boys had managed to do alright on their own, but it was clear that the hostage situation may have complicated things, leaving both Shōhei and Saburōta bloodied on the floor. It was a clumsy mistake on their behalf and one they could have easily avoided if Shōhei had sought revenge through the proper channels.

Still, Shōhei was noticeably staggered by their interference. He was surprised enough that Saburōta decided to help him, but all of HOMRA, including his king, was standing in the doorway sizing up the threat of the mob before them. He hadn't told them about Sora or the Rakshasa. "W-why…?" he murmured apprehensively.

"I was as bored as ever, so I decided to go out for a walk." Mikoto didn't seem overly impressed with the question, but amazingly enough, he kept himself from diminishing their new blood's confusion. Despite what it may have looked like to some members, Mikoto had only one priority in life, and that was his pride. It had always been his pride. It was for that reason that he thought it might be appropriate to pass on a kind word of warning to their newest addition to keep his worry from lingering. "It won't do you any good to get drunk off your power."

Mikoto's words caused Izumo to deride his king's sound proclamation with a mischievous snicker. "Is this speaking from experience?"

"Shut up…" Mikoto barked under his breath.

The remainder of the mafioso surrendered to the unsteady hush befalling after the screams of their wounded colleague ended with his life. It wasn't a common thing in Shizume City for just anyone to be capable of summoning flames out of thought. The realization caused one of them to rush out justification. "Y-you guys are…"

"That's right," Misaki sneered proudly. He reached for his shirt collar and flashed his clan crest towards the muttering bystanders to warn them of the fate they'd chosen. "We're HOMRA." And they were _not_ pleased.

Petrified gazes snapped immediately to the volatile redhead lingering casually with a dainty child latched onto his hip with no perceivable emotion. "Then that means… you're Suoh Mikoto?!"

Anna did no more than blink large garnet eyes at the panicked thug's insinuation. "You hurt our friends…"

Shots immediately began to pop in the building from a series of firearms desperate to slay the monster standing in their wake, but their efforts were to no avail. Mikoto liquified the bullets without so much as removing his hands from his pockets, protecting his undaunted pride from the destructive rain. Unbeknown to their enemies' struggle, their insistence only made his fever rise, leaving a dense fog of breath to slip past his lips into the warehouse that lacked temperature control. "Burn them," he rumbled certainly.

At his command, every other sound dimmed in Neirah's ears as she lurched to life save for the rally-call of her team, making ready to repay the debt their enemies had unknowingly accumulated that night. She promised to be careful, and she was, but that that didn't mean she would warm the bench for another moment. The warmth she needed was far too hot to contain while sitting idly as the mayhem slipped from her comprehension. Without blinking once, she located her squealing target, watching Sora wince and squirm every time some form of attack nearly struck her. Being bound, Sora was helpless to dodge bullets or the spray of blood, and to a kind-hearted woman with minimal exposure to underground crime, what Sora was about to witness would be traumatizing. Until she was safe, Neirah refused to stop moving.

When a knife-wielding man lunged towards Neirah, her first instinct was to swing her leg into his jaw, but Saruhiko was right. She did lead with her right foot, which was also recovering from a fracture. Instead, she ducked out of his strike range and seized his weapon. After jabbing her burning elbow into his jugular, he loosened his grip on his blade, allowing Neirah to apprehend it and launch it into the shoulder of her next approaching resistance. She would admit later that she was quite impressed with the way it sailed, perfectly balanced considering its size. She might consider taking it as a consolation later if she thought about it before they completely destroyed the evidence of their crimes.

A rather bashful smirk brightened her face when she withdrew a pair of throwing darts in each hand, wondering when nostalgia was going to wear off. The last time she'd used nothing but knives, it was a cold, rainy day too. Only this time, she didn't leap between buildings. Instead, she dodged cadavers dropping among bright flames, and she was her own spotlight as she danced. The conflict at hand was hardly enough to encourage Mikoto to summon his sanctum.

She released her blades two at a time, her sharp sapphire glare careful to make sure her flaming projectiles had incapacitated her enemies before she turned her back. That had been her downfall the last time she fought in such a reminiscent style, but she wouldn't let it become some other poor woman's problem.

Finally, she made it to the centre of the warzone where her damsel awaited with makeup smearing her face from the tears that she cried, and when Neirah arrived, she smiled kindly at Sora's nervous intrigue. "You're fine now," she whispered tenderly. "Everything will work out, you'll see."

Sora didn't seem convinced, and before Neirah could remove the tape on her face, Sora started to make an awful racket. The acknowledgement caused Neirah to sigh, and before the thug at her back could slam his steel piping into the back of Neirah's skull, Neirah whirled into the strike and captured it with steady claws. She locked her impatiently smouldering glower on her hesitant enemy as he tried to force his strength to cripple her hold, but it was of no benefit. Moments after, Neirah's body ignited, the metal rod boiling beneath her intense heat until her end began to liquefy and melt into her assailant's determined palms. When he screamed and dropped his weapon, Neirah instinctively steadied her injured foot so that she could slam the sole of her left shoe into the panicking man's windpipe. "What a nuisance," she scowled.

Once she was sure the commotion was under control again, she returned to her work, kneeling by Sora's lap with a kind look in her eyes after extinguishing her flames. The first thing she did was reach up towards Sora's face to gently clasp the edge of the duct tape her tyrant captor had plastered across her pretty mouth. "I know it's going to be hard to look on the bright side of something like this." She slowly began pulling the tape away, grateful that the adhesive loosened by Sora's sweat and tears over the whole situation. "But, I bet this would have hurt if you hadn't cried so much."

Neirah connected their gazes, realizing that Sora was still a little skeptical about her blazing rescuer. Before she released the frightened doe, Neirah raised her fingers towards the mascara marks framing her frightened eyes and wiped away the excess drainage. "Some people don't realize how important tears are." After she finished cleaning Sora's face, Neirah returned her touch to her own eyes and repeated the effort, noting that her actions closely resembled the charcoal lines tattooed just beneath stunning azure irises. Once she was sure that Sora had noticed the similarities, she offered her a playful wink over her confident beam.

"T-thank you…"

Neirah flinched, a little sad to hear the way Sora's voice drowned in sorrow, but when reassurance came that no one would judge her from draining the pain from her burning eyes, Sora let them all rush to the surface with her trembling whimpers. With a gently supportive grin, Neirah proceeded to draw the kunai from her tailbone so she could slice through Sora's bindings. "Poor thing." She let the sobbing woman collapse weakly into her arms, helping Sora to steady her trembling legs before allowing her to walk on her own. "I remember that fear…"

The moment Sora was stable enough to stand on her own and answer Izumo's questions, Neirah turned away, her eyes meeting Shōhei's as he lingered shellshocked in the middle of the floor with his injured friend in his lap. Neirah wasn't precisely sure how Saburōta ended up victimized by the entire situation when he claimed to have hated their newest recruit. Still, she had a pretty good idea who she needed to extort that information from, and she promised that blood hadn't stopped spilling that night.

Shōhei remained speechless by what he'd witnessed, what he'd done, so he stayed quiet when Neirah approached and knelt next to him. "I think your friend needs you right now." When she caught the sight of Shōhei's apprehensive gaze observing the mess he'd helped make of Saburōta, Neirah's cheeks flushed with fondness over her broadening grin. "Not this one. Sora-chan." She tossed her head over her shoulder a couple of times to nudge him towards a far prettier sight than the one in his lap. "Don't worry. I'll take care of Wolf-kun while we clean up here." Without disturbing too many of Shōhei's wounds, Neirah wrapped her arms around Saburōta and let him flop against her instead. "Go be her hero. It really makes an impression on a girl."

"S-Shōhei!" Sora called out to her friend weakly as she delicately skipped through the warehouse towards him.

Shōhei seemed hesitant at first, and maybe a little confused by her arbitrary statement. She chalked that up to the shock he was likely contending with when everything was said and done, but when the frightened Sora tried to dodge bloody puddles to make it to his side, he responded to her desperate call. Once he had left Neirah behind, her reassuring smile faded, and she absently combed her fingers through her fallen hero's wild mane. "Look at you," she cooed in tender reprimand. "What a mess…"

After giving him a couple of soothing pats, she let her fingers linger by his nape, teasing the ends of his hair that were sticky with blood. "Why is it that the only time Hero-kun is brave is when he can get seriously hurt?" When she noticed that her fidgeting wasn't adequately concealing her trembling anymore, she retracted her touch entirely.

"Why… did you stop?"

Neirah shuddered alertly, feeling the temperature in her face intensify when she heard Saburōta muffle his weak denial against her thigh. "Y-you're awake?"

"It… felt nice…"

Neirah took a moment beneath a knotted brow to comprehend his answer to a question that she didn't ask before she shook her head and continued to straighten his hair with her fingers as she battled the need to burst out into relieved tears. "I'm so glad…" she whispered.

"You said that the first night… too." Saburōta lingered on the memories that seemed to wash over him as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He wanted to gripe about the pain shooting through his arm that was more than a little likely broken, but he kind of liked the attention that came with it.

All Neirah wanted to do was clutch him tight to her chest and thank everything that he was safe, but she knew that would likely leave him to suffer more pain. When she caught the sight of his hat nearby, she carefully adjusted beneath his weight so she could snatch it, her smile only broadening further. "And just like that first night, you just can't seem to keep your hat on, can you?" She choked out a broken laugh as she carefully fitted the beak to his brow. "It's part of your identity, too, you know."

Saburōta's eyes were barely open, to begin with, but after hearing her fond statement, he closed them entirely and snuggled weakly into her comfort. "Yeah…"

_Tsk._ When Neirah turned her disapproving scowl towards Misaki's interruption, the agitated vanguard threw his disgruntled pout to one side to hide his impatient blushing. "Are you two done? You're being gross."

"Does Wolf-kun look better to you?" After Misaki turned his bemused attention towards Neirah's huffy dedication, it marked with clear signs of his jealousy. "That's what I thought," she scolded. "He can stay here until he's better."

"D-damn it, Tsukiyo! Cut that out!" Misaki thundered. "This is why he thinks he can get away with being a petty asshole!"

"You monster!" she raved. "How could you bully a friend while he's down!?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, he's fine!" Misaki growled. He rolled his eyes and approached regardless of all Neirah's protective hissing. "See? Look! He's just doin' it so that you'll pay attention to him."

Izumo cringed the moment that Saburōta howled bloody murder to the feeling of Misaki dragging him out of Neirah's lap. "What the hell was that?" Izumo rumbled evenly. "D' somebody step on his tail?"

"Dude, what the fuck?!" Misaki barked in retaliation. "I just touched your damn arm!"

Neirah caught her companion before he could fall back to the ground, supporting him as he cradled his arm close to his chest. "He obviously hurt it!" she snapped.

"Well, maybe if he wasn't such a pushover!"

"Hero-kun is strong and brave!"

"Like hell he is!"

"Guys…?" Saburōta whinged meekly. "It really hurts…"

"Shut the hell up!" Misaki commanded.

"Bandō, baby, now isn't the time!"

Izumo sighed and watched the pandemonium unfold, and he was silently grateful that Shōhei had infiltrated the disorder to pull his friend to safety. "What a crazy thing," he murmured calmly next to his king. "It's like those two are some kind of newlywed couple arguing about how they're gonna raise their kid."

_Hmph_.

Catching the sight of Mikoto's entertained smirk as he turned away, Izumo scrunched up his face curiously. "What was that snort for?" he curiously pried. "Mikoto? Hey, just what do you know that I don't?"


	44. Kenodoxy

**Kenodoxy**

* * *

Far too much of Saburōta's focus went into the task at hand as he crinkled the bag remaining between him and his chocolate-coated treats. When he received the cookie sticks as comfort food, he expected them to bring him more relief than a headache, but all they managed to accomplish was testing his patience. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough of that in the first place. His groan was low and strenuous at first as he fidgeted with the package in the hand that still functioned after his battle alongside Shōhei. "Come on…" he muttered impatiently. "Open up, you piece of-"

The aggression in Saburōta's tone immediately morphed to dispirited whimpers as his candy was liberated from his fumbling grip by a passing Neirah. "A-ah! Onē-san, don't!"

"Let me guess." Neirah cocked her hip to one side, casting Saburōta a sarcastically alluring sneer as she tugged on both sides of his Pocky bag until it popped open. "Relying on a woman to do everything for you is bad for your pride?"

"I told you you sounded just like him," Rikio called from the other side of the room in passing.

"I was doing it ironically," she hollered in rebuttal. With a tender smile on her face, she handed Saburōta his opened snack before inviting herself onto the couch beside him. "It's okay. I don't mind. There are just some things that aren't going to come easy with only one arm." A weary sigh interrupted her confidence as he received her kindness. "Look, you already broke half of them with all your fussing."

"Oi! Piss off with the cookies!" Misaki ragged intolerantly upon approach. "I use that thing as my bed, and I swear if I wake up to crumbs in it, I'll break your other arm!" Then, when he turned to meet the intense leer of the woman sitting next to the unconcerned Saburōta, his face ignited with flustered hesitation. "W-what're you guys even doing back here, anyway?! Why can't you just sit out front!"

"Kusanagi-san is busy. That's why Ri-chan and Tat-chan are out front helping." From where Neirah had lounged herself on one end of the adjustable futon, her seductive glower continued to cut lethally towards Misaki's interruption. "Besides, what did I say about bullying Wolf-kun while he was healing?" The moment she saw Misaki gear up to blast her while Saburōta calmly nibbled on his strawberry-flavoured cookies, Neirah elevated her tone of voice in warning. "And before you answer, just remember that I've always known where you sleep. I wonder why that is?"

Shōhei couldn't help but snigger slightly to the sight of Misaki immediately clamming up, the pigment of his face deepening until he appeared to have taken a fever. "Oh, wow, Nē-chan, you can be pretty scary when you want to be." From where Shōhei sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Saburōta, he kindly passed his injured friend his beverage. "I'm happy that I never got on your bad side."

"Are you certain of that?" Neirah silently delighted in the way Saburōta remained contentedly quiet beside her, relishing in every moment that his battles appeared mitigated for him. Even if he didn't admit it out loud, she knew he was enjoying the small victory. "If you hadn't acted so recklessly, I wouldn't have to open Wolf-kun's Pocky for him."

Despite the smile that refused to fade from Shōhei's face, he felt his collar perspire uncomfortably, causing him to tug at his neckline. "Yeah, I know. And I'm very sorry-" As she stole his hat from on top of his head, he stilled, and his eyes shifted to meet her fond smile as she cooed her tolerance for his mistakes.

"You'd better be." Her warning was kind as she murmured it through her flirtatious grin and settled his hat comfortably on her crown. It felt much more natural the second time and caused her cheeks to dust rosy as she beamed back at him. "I already warned you how important HOMRA was to me, didn't I?"

Shōhei's smile visibly softened with appreciation before he suddenly snapped to attention at her feet. "Oh! That's right!" Their company watched him incredulously as he reached into his pockets, checking a number of them to no avail. "Sora- ah…" After finally locating a scrap of paper he seemed to be searching for, he leaned towards the futon and passed it towards Neirah's curious tut. "Sora wanted me to give this to you."

There was a deep furrow in Neirah's brow as she unfolded the parchment to the heartwarming sight of a phone number scribed in neat handwriting across the paper. "Is this… her phone number?"

_Hah!_ Misaki barked his delight towards Saburōta, who stopped gnawing on the vanishing cookie stick between his lips the moment he comprehended Neirah's announcement. "See? Even Tsukiyo has better luck with girls than you do! When was the last time you got a chick's phone number, Bandō?"

"When was the last time you got a girl's phone number, _Yata_?" Yō droned from where he stepped into the doorway just in time to seize the opportunity. He snorted lightly before raising his glass to his lips, sampling the drink he'd just received from Izumo at the bustling storefront. "That's what I thought, smartass."

"Hey, fuck you, Chitose!" Misaki thundered. "Tsukiyo said I couldn't push Bandō around, but she didn't say nothin' about kickin' your sorry ass! What're you even doing back here?!"

"Kusanagi-san kicked us out unless we intended on helping," Masaomi reasoned diplomatically. "So, he said if we wanted to have a drink, we'd have to do it someplace else. Seein' as there're laws against that sort of thing in public, we figured we'd stay here for the first round or two then head someplace else."

"Oi! This ain't your own personal pre-drinking lounge!" Misaki thundered. "This is my place now!"

"But it used to be _our_ place," Yō instigated. "We all used to hang out here, remember? So, it's gonna take a bit to adjust."

"If I catch even one of you assholes in here when I'm sleeping-" When Misaki saw Yō's wickedly sinister beam twist behind his glass, the ire became unbearable. "Don't get any bright ideas!"

When Shōhei turned away from the ruckus, he raised his concern to where Neirah remained choked by his prior sentiment. He figured that was why she was so quiet. He wanted to quiet his voice in her address, so he raised from his seat on the floor to join her on the sofa opposing Saburōta. "She couldn't stop talking about you," he interrupted quietly. "She said you were really brave, and you made her feel like everything was going to work out. I think it inspired her. She thought maybe you two could grab a coffee sometime and just get to know each other, but she was too nervous about coming here herself."

He seemed humbled to give someone so notorious such moving news. "The whole thing's got her pretty rattled, but I think it would be better for her to talk to someone like you about it. I honestly don't think she expected another girl to rescue her. She said that helped her put on a brave face."

He lowered his head, diverting his gaze towards his hands, where he began to wring the corner of his overshirt between them. "I was glad to hear that," he whispered. "Because in the end, I couldn't make her feel that way. I was so sure that San-chan and I had everything under control up until we found her, and then it all fell apart. I guess I let it go to my head, but I couldn't even protect her much less help her feel hope like that." He closed his eyes, a soft sigh slipping free through his meek smile. "The whole thing was a total bust, but I definitely learned my lesson."

"Then it wasn't a total bust." Neirah's gentle reasoning caused Shōhei to raise his sheepish smile and address her kindness. "I can tell that you've never done anything like that before, which is probably why everything seemed like such a blur, but I can assure you that it's not all glory and triumph." Neirah returned her eyes to Sora's number and gently dusted her touch over it. "I was in Sora's place once, which was why I was so angry when we found out what was going on, but that wasn't the only reason why I felt like I had to be there that night."

"Of course not," Shōhei interrupted playfully. "San-chan was-"

"I didn't know that Wolf-kun was with you." She could feel Shōhei's demeanour drop with the rigidity of his posture when she turned her eyes on him. "I was worried about you because I know that you're kind. That's why I knew that no matter how brightly you smiled afterwards, there would always be that small voice in the back of your heart, reminding you that for just a moment, you were the monster. And I know… I know what that feels like."

Once Shōhei had gotten past the initial impact of her stating that she'd cared about his circumstance, his mild grin returned to warm his features. "Yeah, that threw me."

"But that's okay. I think it is, at least." Her kind smile broadened when he cast her a droll expression. "I've learned a lot about perspective over the past little while, and it's shown me that you're going to be a villain to somebody no matter how hard you try." She didn't bother bringing up how ostracized Shōhei was thanks to Saburōta during that week, but her new friend seemed to catch her meaning right away. "So, maybe all we can do is what's right by us, and if that makes us monsters, then I think we should be proud of that."

"That sounds kinda like a vigilante philosophy," he sassed brightly. "I like it."

A soft giggle escaped Neirah's flushed face. "Me too," she whispered. "A very wise man once said to me that we choose our own fate and shape it to be what we want it to be. It doesn't matter if people fear us, or hate us because, in the end, we're doing what we believe is right. In the future that I see, girls like Sora-chan will be free to achieve all of their hopes and dreams without living with the fear of being manipulated by cruel hands. This power that I hold is my partner in realizing that fate. That's the reason I burn."

Neirah wrapped both of her hands around Sora's number and clutched the sentiment to her chest. "I promised Anna-chan that, one day, I would use this power to do what I think is right, no matter what, and protect my family at all costs. If people want to fear me as a monster for that, that's their choice to make." A gentle sigh slipped past Neirah's lips as she pulled her hands from her collar and gently peeked at the note Sora intended for her to receive. "But this doesn't feel wrong," she breathed out tenderly. "This is the exact opposite."

A mild blush flooded Shōhei's cheeks as he appreciated the intricate beauty before him. The Red Lion he'd heard so much about was very much thriving within the walls of HOMRA, but that genuine threat was only skin deep. There was much more to her than the fear she struck into the hearts of disreputable crime lords throughout Shizume City, and he began to understand what Saburōta and the rest of HOMRA found so precious about that. "Yeah, it feels kinda good, doesn't it?"

Before Neirah could answer, she lost sight of Shōhei behind a suspiciously quiet Saburōta as he dropped down in the couch between them munching on his Pocky as contentedly as ever. There wasn't originally enough room in that space, but after thrusting his palm against Shōhei's face to knock him aside, he settled quite comfortably.

"Too close," Saburōta warned. "Every kōhai has to keep at least three feet away at all times. Only high-ranking senpai have the right to sit close to Onē-san."

_E-eh?! _

Saburōta peeked the crowded Shōhei's disbelief in his peripherals for a moment before swiftly reaching out and snatching Shōhei's hat from Neirah's head. He looked around like he was hoping nobody had noticed, but then, he pitched the cap at Shōhei before replacing it with his snapback instead. When Saburōta caught the disapproval in Neirah's tapered sneer, he smiled shyly and adjusted her wavy hair beneath his intrusion, fixing her bangs to compliment the style.

The intensity of her condemnation began to intimidate him, so he quickly turned away from the sight to face Shōhei instead. "There, see? Senpai privileges," he assured him proudly. "This could be you one day, but you have to go up about five ranks first."

Cautiously, Shōhei watched as Neirah slammed Saburōta's hat back on his head, tearing the cookie stick he'd just set between his teeth from his face with a bitter hiss. "First of all, I've had about enough of your petty nonsense." After dragging the beak of his hat low on his brow to force him to whimper his submission, Neirah rotated his cookie and began to eat it for herself. "Secondly, I've told you a hundred times that you eat Pocky backwards, and it aggravates me."

"I'm sorry!" Saburōta mewled.

"And _Saya-chan_?" she prodded relentlessly. "Are you sorry about her too?"

"Onē-sama is superior in every way!" he hailed.

A delighted purr filled Neirah's chest as she relaxed against the couch and pulled another cookie from the box that Saburōta was nursing by her side. "Mm, much better~"

She tried to conceal her modest blushing to preserve her ruse, nibbling on the flavoured strawberry stick musically as she observed their small gathering. It had been a while since they'd assembled in that spot. Kōsuke was helping Misaki set up a gaming console to his outdated television, and she figured that Saruhiko was likely the one who'd managed to link the devices in the first place, so she didn't tease him. The boy didn't seem to be all too tech-savvy.

"Saya-chan…" Shōhei dipped his chin in thought, his brow furrowing despite how his comment had attracted Neirah and Saburōta's attention simultaneously. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

The moment Saburōta heard Shōhei utter Saya's name, his body stiffened, and he promised that if Shōhei couldn't even remember who she was, he was going to snap.

"Wait, is she that cute girl from kindergarten?"

He snapped anyway.

* * *

After a while of moderating the mayhem that had erupted in Misaki's corner of the facility, Neirah figured that she should offer her services to the bustling barkeep. Luckily, by the time she'd stepped from the backroom, Masaomi had already taken to assisting with drink orders behind the bar. Tatara was waiting tables, and she supposed Rikio was somewhere in the kitchen handling food. She only hoped that he was doing so productively and not eating one for every two he completed. "My," she cooed upon joining Masaomi behind the bar. She captured her wristlet between her teeth and pulled her hair back. "It's no wonder why Onii-san doesn't want us hoodlums making a fuss out here." Her expression remained light as she leaned to wash her hands in the small stainless-steel basin. "I didn't expect it to be this busy."

Masaomi heaved an exhausted sigh as he took her side and passed her a hand towel to dry her hands. "Yeah, I don't know if there's some kind of event going on or what, but a whole party of women just showed up here outta nowhere and they. are. loud."

Neirah cocked a brow at him with a seductively wry expression. "Oh please," she mocked. "You act as if you don't know that one of them is probably getting married soon. Is that why you sound so disappointed?"

An agitated furrow tightened Masaomi's brow beneath his hat as he closed his eyes and dropped his head. "No, but the way Chitose's passin' himself around their table tells me that we'll find out soon enough who's off-limits." The irritated tick caused one brow to twitch as the laughter across the room accelerated. "Or we'll have big trouble tomorrow when her husband-to-be charges in here wondering how the hell we managed to be responsible for the dissolving of their marriage."

Neirah gave her head a slow nod as Masaomi rested nearby. "Ah, it's like Russian roulette with a bride and her maids. Lovely." She didn't bother looking before passing her rag towards his chest, letting her fingers linger for a moment before he took her subtle encouragement to receive the article. "Want me to bounce him out?"

"Please…"

Neirah floated through the commotion and poked her head into the kitchen, where Izumo was instructing Rikio on his tasks. "Ah, Kusanagi-san? I'm here too if you need some help," she eagerly announced. "Should I help Tat-chan take orders? I wore a nice shirt today."

A look of relief seemed to cross Izumo's face as he turned towards the invitation with a grateful tone in his reply. "That'd be great, Neirah, thanks. I could use a cigarette," he murmured appreciatively. "If that's the case, I can bounce between here and the front without worrying about how long people are waiting.

"Speaking of bouncing," she instigated evenly. "Were you aware of Chitose-kun invading on a pack of intoxicated bridesmaids? I just didn't want to attack if you'd set him on them to distract them from the backlog."

"What? No!" After pushing his fingers through his bangs, Izumo growled impatiently and stepped from Rikio's side as if he intended to strike out at the youth. "That guy…"

Neirah quickly threw up both of her hands to interrupt his charge. "No-no, don't worry. I've got it," she assured him collectedly. "I'll make it look like an accident."

"Thank you."

_E-eh?_ Rikio looked towards where Izumo was picking his cigarettes from his pocket before jerking his attention towards Neirah's casual departure and back. "U-uh… is it really okay to let her go after Chitose with all those people around?"

"Why not?" Izumo instigated behind his first relieved nicotine-flavoured respire. "Those folks could be in for a real treat tonight. Drinks and theatre are popular nowadays among the upper class. Those murder mysteries are all the rage."

Rikio's tone flattened disbelievingly. "It's not a mystery if she kills him right in front of them…"

"Ah, touché…"

After reliably waiting on the tables remaining that Tatara hadn't managed to serve, Neirah delivered their collected orders to the counter and kitchen. Shortly after, she'd also rid the bar of Yō's presence, and the only mystery around the effort was that no blood had shed whatsoever, not that they tended to leave any. Although, Tatara would later embellish the story when he described that all it took was for Neirah to whisper a brief statement into the frisky man's ear before he was obeying her command. That would bewilder and excite members of their clan for weeks to come as the theories tumbled in, but it still didn't outweigh the impact of the Chitose Incident of '08.

By the time Misaki had poked his head out and offered his assistance, some of the turmoil had settled. It was quite apparent that he was explicitly waiting for the riled wedding party to disperse before being so kind. Also, Neirah took notice that Anna and her king had joined the fray at some point. Anna remained glued to Mikoto's hip so as not to intrude on business, but Mikoto didn't seem nearly as courteous. After bussing a couple of abandoned tables, Neirah rushed her dishes behind the bar. While approaching Masaomi's tending, she hollered her warning over the idle chatter filling the room. "Heads up, Dewa-kun."

Responding, but without raising his eyes from his work, Masaomi offered his back towards the woman, who did the same. They collided as Neirah stepped in reverse, the impact warning each other where they were without interrupting their progress. After switching places, they carried on with their tasks unhindered.

"Do you have my last order ready?"

"On the counter."

"Dōmo~"

Repeating the same process that saw her behind him the first time, Neirah carried on her mission and swept through the hall to deliver her order to another trio of satisfied customers. Shortly after bowing out of their thanks, she floated back through the chaos and gave her little sister's skirt a gentle tug from behind. Anna immediately startled with a breathless gasp on her lips to turn and see Neirah crouched in front of her with her hair pulled back.

"Onē-san, you startled me."

"I'm sorry, Anna-chan," she purred lovingly. "But I noticed that it's getting close to supper time, and I figured that King-sama probably hadn't fed you." When Mikoto derided her insinuation with a snort, Neirah turned and flashed the pink of her tongue. "Things seem to be settling down out here, so if you wanted something, I could probably sneak into the kitchen and prepare it."

When Anna turned to glance her king like she was seeking permission, Neirah firmly took the child's face between her palms and redirected ruby eyes to her mock pout. "Don't look at King-sama. This is Anna-chan's decision."

Anna tilted her peripherals over Neirah's fingers towards where Mikoto remained unmoved, and then she returned her gaze. "Can I help?"

"Of course, you can," Neirah whispered proudly. "Come. Let's go and see what the boys are up to. Maybe we can give them some pointers too."

_Hai~_

Unfortunately, before the girls could make it around the front of the bar, the entryway burst open, startling Neirah into tightening her grip on Anna's hands like she was going to defend the young Strain.

"Suoh, you lazy son-of-a-bitch! Figures I'd find you loungin' around here like some pampered fuckin' pussy."

Neirah gave her head a gentle shake as she watched Tomaya brashly announce his presence, stomping through the bar like he owned the place and right over to her king. In a split second, their gazes met, and she happened to notice that the dark circles separating his golden eyes from the freckling on his high-set cheekbones were less predominant.

"Tomo." After reclaiming her hand, Anna trotted happily across the floor towards where Tomaya eagerly scooped her up onto his arm, using his free hand to adjust the tiny hat on top of her head.

"How ya been, squirt? Takin' care of that rusty ol' lighter for me?"

Anna nodded vigorously with a stony expression.

"Uhm, excuse me-" But before Neirah could attract Tomaya's attention, the crude man already had his palm on Mikoto's shoulder.

"D' ya hear me, old man?" Tomaya prodded relentlessly. "Come smoke with me. Eh. Ehh."

Mikoto's expression remained stony as Tomaya's free index finger nudged the side of his head repeatedly to one side like a prying child. Then, Anna's soft voice sounded from above shoulder height.

"Mikoto. Tomo is here."

"Yeah, I heard him." With a hefty sigh, Mikoto climbed to his feet like the menial effort was excruciating. "Alright, alright, I'm up already."

"Uhm, excuse me?" With an elevated tone, Neirah attempted to pry yet again.

"That's right. You'd better be," Tomaya mocked. "'Fraid I'm gonna steal your girl?"

"I'm pretty sure even Anna-chan can kick your ass," Misaki grumbled intolerantly nearby. "And what's the big idea holdin' her like that? If you even think about droppin' her, I'll beat your ass so bad-"

"Cool your jets, half-pint," Tomaya dismissed with a casual wave of his hand.

"Oi! What'd you just call me?!"

"EXCUSE ME!" By the time Neirah had dropped her wailing head back in line with the commotion, she was panting weighted breaths and trying to figure out why her old friend was refusing to pay attention to her. When she raised her voice, Izumo was summoned from the back, only adding to her bemusement when he didn't seem affected by their company.

"Oh, Tetsuko, when did you get here?"

"Eh? Been here about ten minutes or somethin'."

The casual air didn't leave Izumo's expression as he knocked his knuckles against the liquor wall. "Lookin' for a drink?"

"What is it Onē-san?" Anna's tone was calm and quiet, as usual. "You're distressed."

Nonetheless, Neirah was grateful that someone finally paid attention to her confusion. "Yes, I am," she admitted frankly. After throwing her hand out towards the tall ginger's unexpected intrusion, she shook her tense appendage up and down. "Can somebody please explain to me what he's doing here acting like he's everyone's best friend? Is this like the whole Chitose and Kobayashi thing?"

An understanding and a somewhat apologetic smile found Izumo's expression as he approached his usual post. "That's right. I would say it's something similar," he admitted. "See, while you were in Nagasaki, Tetsuko came by looking for you wondering why you weren't contacting him anymore."

"Which sucked, by the way," Misaki grumbled resentfully.

"Yeah, so I made new friends, stuck-up bitch," Tomaya growled spitefully. "Gettin' real sick of your shit, Nei-chan. This is the second time you've up and broke my heart."

"Oh, would you stop with the dramatization!" she scowled. "And put Anna-chan down this instant! She's not going anywhere until she's had some dinner!"

Tomaya snorted dismissively. "So, we'll eat while we're out, right, Suoh?"

"I could eat," Mikoto supported in a low murmur.

"See?" Tomaya snorted, scowling at the woman's dramatic interference. "Fuck, you're just as uptight as your little boyfriend."

"Cut that out!" Misaki howled upon climbing to his feet. "You can't just joke about shit like that!"

"You sayin' it's true?" Tomaya sassed. "'Cause, just in case you forgot, you're the one who told me she was your girl."

"You bastard, I never said-!" Before Misaki could strike, Mikoto laid his palm on the riled youth's shoulder, causing his expression to drain of all hostility. "M-Mikoto-san?"

Neirah continued to glare at Tomaya wrathfully as he passed next to her king with a smug smile on his lips, and just as he passed, she raised her foot to kick his hind end before he escaped. "And I didn't call you because I was sorting out my life's problems!" she defended. "You should try it sometime!"

She waited and watched the trio leave entirely before covering her lips to stifle the squeal she emitted like she was ventilating the pressure of her ire. Before the effort was entirely complete, she swung to face Izumo to whine her disapproval. "Onii-san, why didn't you tell me?!"

"Huh? Why?" He prompted curiously. "Well, I thought that's somethin' you would have known. Up until your trip, you guys were spendin' quite a bit of time together."

"Why is HOMRA stealing all my friends?!" she demanded in outrage. "Stop that!"

"Neirah? I think you're overreacting," the barkeep theorized calmly. "Here. Let me make you some tea."

Even Misaki gave her room as she stormed through the room and dropped herself into a bar stool with a disapproving growl. "Don't want tea…"

"What was that?"

"Genmaicha, please…"

"Uh oh, somebody's in a bad mood," Tatara sang as he exited the kitchen. He'd finished serving the remainder of their customers, leaving the wave to finish their drinks and quietly make their way to their next destination that night. "I could make you ochazuke? We have tai."

After slumping onto the bar, Neirah slowly shook her head. "Tomo hates me."

_Tsk._ Overhearing her dismay, Misaki immediately jumped to his downtrodden companion's rescue. "Tsukiyo, don't listen to any of that shit that comes outta that guy's mouth! Honestly, with how he treats you, I'm surprised you even care." His tone was matter-of-fact as he lectured her. "It's no good to bully girls, and that's all that creep ever does."

"I promise he's not all that bad," she defended docilely in a soft voice. "He really loves Anna-chan, and has a lot of respect for King-sama."

Misaki's tone adjusted quickly after her unexpected rebuttal. "Yeah! After he threatened to kill 'im!"

"Calm down, Yata-chan," Tatara soothed brightly. "You know Tetsuko-san could never kill King."

"Well, yeah… but what about it bein' the thought that counts?" Misaki threw his flustered face over his shoulder, just as pouty as Neirah but a deeper shade of red. "It just pisses me off that he gets away with disrespectin' our lion like that."

"It's fine," Neirah muttered bleakly. "I just feel bad that I didn't think about that while I was in Nagasaki. I knew he was getting pretty used to having me in his life again."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Izumo reassured her kindly. He set a teacup in front of her nose with a kind smile, raising his pot to pour. "While you were gone, Mikoto made sure he stayed out of trouble. He's pretty easy to get along with if you just nod and smile because he just needs someone to listen. Mikoto probably only ever says about ten words to him, and he's satisfied." He returned his stoneware to the hotplate next to him with a gentle chortle. "And you're right. He is pretty fond of Anna-chan. I think he spoils her even more than the rest of us."

When Izumo caught the sight of Misaki's disgust out of the corner of his eye, his expression begged leniency from the incensed vanguard. "Oh, come on. You know it's true," he defended. "I'm not sayin' that he doesn't have some serious issues to work out, but you gotta admit, he's a bit like you are."

"Rude!" Neirah exclaimed at the same time as Misaki's voice elevated in denial. "Are you forgetting that Tetsuko-san ordered the mafia to kidnap me?!"

"No, I remember," Izumo hummed playfully. "And then Yata, here, essentially kidnapped you back, so tell me they're not similar."

"What an ugly way of saying rescued," Neirah scorned around her first sip of tea. She lingered on her thoughts for a moment before wrinkling her nose and reburying her face in her cup. "Tat-chan? Can we go home now?"

"Eh? But it's so early?" Tatara whined softly. "Are you that upset?"

"You don't have to rush off just because Tetsuko rained on your parade," Izumo reassured her. "I have Kamamoto in the back fryin' up some chicken as we speak. You should stay and eat somethin' after all that running around."

"Actually, I want to get in touch with Sora-chan." Neirah calmly slipped the piece of paper from her pocket. "Shōhei's friend gave him her number so we could meet up for coffee or something sometime."

"How sweet," Tatara purred musically. "She must have been very impressed with Nei-chan's abilities."

A soft dusting of pink highlighted Neirah's cheeks as she wriggled in her seat, playing with the hair falling over her shoulder. "Tat-chan, don't say such embarrassing things," she scolded. "I couldn't do much because of my leg, remember?"

"True," Izumo instigated. "But you did rush to the young lady's side before anything else. Regardless of your state, her safety was your priority. Is that not the very essence of being a hero?"

The wry expression on Neirah's face seemed to deride his insinuation over her mild grin. "If that's true, then Yata-san is my hero."

"That was different," Izumo refuted.

"Wait! How is that different?!" Misaki thundered impatiently. "I was the only one who went after her! The rest of you were too hung up on stupid Bandō!"

With a flattening tone, Izumo cut his impatient sneer towards the bitter youth. "You want a cookie?"

"No, but a little bit of damn recognition would be nice," he growled.

"And she just called you a hero, no?"

Just as he was about to mope, Misaki startled to the feeling of Neirah's fingers crowning his head, shoving his hat down over his eyes.

"Thank you for the tea, Onii-san," Neirah murmured fondly. "I think I'll head home for the evening, though."

"Are you sure?" Izumo pried. "Kamamoto's probably almost done with that chicken."

Once she released Misaki to allow him a scramble to undo her actions, she slowly shook her head. "It's fine. I should probably message Tetsuko-san and apologize. Then I might call Sora-chan. Besides, tomorrow is a school day, and after everything with the Rakshasa's blast from the past, I'm exhausted."

"Well, alright then," Izumo calmly surrendered. "Goodnight then."

When Misaki finished unburying his face from the knit of his cap, he turned to watch her approach the front doors with a disappointed frown. "H-hah… g-goodnight, Tsukiyo…" Even if she didn't say anything back, he found himself gratified with the casual wave of her hand. But as soon as he returned his gaze only to meet with Tatara and Izumo's scrutiny, he panicked. "W-what!? I can't say goodnight now?!"

"Yeah, but why did you say it like that?" Izumo pestered.

"Did Tetsuko-san upset you that bad that you went back to stuttering when you tried to talk to Nei-chan?" Tatara instigated.

"Y-you know what?! I just remembered that I left those guys playin' games in the back," he rushed. "I'm gonna go kick 'em out before they mess up all my stuff!"

"Sure thing… Tell 'em that the food's almost ready, too, if they're interested," Izumo murmured doubtfully. He watched Misaki run off with a curious crease in his brow. "Huh, that was weird."

"Well, I think I should go too, Kusanagi-san." Shaking his bangs from his brow, Tatara raised to his feet and stretched his hands high above his head with a musical groan. "Nei-chan seemed to have something bothering her, so I should probably ask her what it as before she gets herself worked up about it."

"She's probably just nostalgic," Izumo calmly hypothesized. "A lot of what just happened probably took her down memory lane, what with Tashiro-kun and Bandō. And if you recall, there was that time she convinced herself that she was going to be a terrible role-model for Anna-chan. Now she has her first real fan. That's gotta mean somethin'." He smiled to himself as he dismissed Masaomi from his usual post, setting his workstation back the way he liked it. "It's just another sign that things are changing, and you know how she feels about change."

Tatara seemed to consider Izumo's sentiment profoundly for a moment before his smile broadened. "Yes, but this time, it only goes to show that she's one step closer to her dream," he whispered. "And I think that's wonderful."

* * *

Back home, Neirah sat cross-legged on the centre of her sofa with her PDA pressed tight to her ear in a clammy palm. Her grip was tight and trembling with nerves even as she tried to maintain her composure over the connection. "Yes. No, of course!

Not at all. Shōhei explained it all quite well." Suddenly, the room on the other side of the apartment door Tatara cracked erupted with fond laughter. "No, he did really well! I promise! He seems like a pretty confident and easygoing fellow.

Okay. Great! I guess we'll see you Saturday then!

I'm… looking forward to it." Then, the tone of Neirah's voice flattened with a well of strained motion, and when Tatara slowly closed the door to peek where she sat, he could see the bashful colour in her cheeks. "Please don't thank me," she nearly whispered. "I was just the person to untie you, but it was thanks to Shōhei that we knew where you were, and everyone helped out.

HOMRA, that's right." As Tatara approached, he noticed Neirah's sheepish smile modestly spreading like she was listening to praise on the other end of her PDAs connection. "I would like to believe that too, Sora-chan.

Yes, we'll meet there.

Have a good night!"

By the time Neirah disconnected the line, Tatara's chin was resting on the sofa back beside her immediately deadpanned expression, his big prying eyes pressuring her for details. Even as she stared vacantly forward, the pressure of the sparkling chocolate orbs accompanied by his beaming grin caused her to squirm beneath his scrutiny. "Can I help you?"

"You have a date~" he sang whimsically.

Without warning, Neirah threw her front over the couch cushions and began to slap away her instigating roommate. Her blushing only intensified as he struggled to shield himself from her playful swats, but soon, her weight unsteadied the couch enough to see it tip over onto the floor.

Neirah's shrill yelp filled with alarm as she toppled against her nosy friend. After she did a mental assessment confirming that neither of them was experiencing any significant pain, she continued to beat the chest where she'd collapsed. "That's so rude," she commanded. When she finished swatting him, she wrapped her fingers around the long sections of hair that framed his face to tug. "Don't listen to other people's conversations! You're so nosy! Nosy, nosy, nosy!" Then, with a tightening expression, she sat up to straddle his torso before giving him a sterner jab to his shoulder. That strike made him yip in pain.

"Ow, Nei-chan, that one actually hurt."

"Nosy!" she howled. "You could've gotten Wolf-kun serious hurt- no. He _did_ get seriously hurt! You could've gotten him killed!"

"Ah… but if it weren't for San-chan, Shōhei might not have made it," he justified meekly. "It all worked out in the end, so it's fine!" He offered her a reassuring smile instead. "And now you have a date with Sora-chan! How neat!"

A curt snort rushed past her nostrils as she folded her arms awkwardly over her chest, throwing her derisive pout to one side. "I'm not overly fond of you making unsupervised decisions without my consent," she reprimanded scornfully. "I have a duty to protect my pride. How am I supposed to do that when you're running around at all hours, making trouble?"

"But… what about Shōhei…?"

"No questions!" she thundered. Her tone lowered as she dismounted her friend and dusted herself off, heaving the couch into its proper setting once more. "It doesn't have to make sense. Don't make sense of it! I don't need your logic. I just need to yell at someone before I burst." She exploded her arms to either side of her head to dramatize her exclamation. "Then, boom! No more lion!"

Tatara snickered from the flat of his back. "Heh, glad to be of service, m' lady, er… lion?"

After rolling her eyes, Neirah reached for his retracted paws and helped him to his feet, dusting his front for him in apology as she softened her tone. "I'm serious, Tat-chan," she nearly whispered. "I was really worried."

The humour fled Tatara's expression as he accepted her concerns. "I'm sorry," he surrendered. "Let's not talk about how bad things could have been or whose fault it was. Everyone's safe now. That's all that matters." His enthusiasm faltered when he discovered that she was quietly shaking as she straightened their belongings in the room that had upturned. The excitement of everything had gotten the best of her.

"Sora-chan said that HOMRA was full of good people just now," she whispered proudly.

Suddenly, Tatara reached for the woman as she paused in the centre of the room with a downcast expression, and urgency elevated his tone. "Neirah…"

But before he could calm her, her tears began to fall against the floorboards, and she didn't even try to stop them. "And I couldn't agree more," she whimpered passionately. "This place, these people, my home and family, my kingdom, my pride, I couldn't be more proud of them." And when she whirled over her shoulder to face her dear friend, Tatara's heart melted to the sight of her tears as they outlined her beautiful smile like starlight. "I couldn't be… any happier."

_I want to do something to make this place a happy place, where even if bad things happen, we'll be able to laugh them off when we get back here._

When Tatara wrapped his arms around his roommate, Neirah didn't expect his grip to be quite so tight as he buried his rosy smile into her hair. "Nei-chan is so pretty when she smiles," he whispered happily against her crown. "I'm so glad we got to see it."

Neirah began to shake her head, her fingers tugging on his clothes in a mixed attempt to cling to his comfort and shoo him away. "Tatara, don't say such embarrassing things," she teased through a spirited laugh. "I really was afraid." But then her expression softened again with the wash of fond memories to overwhelm her. "But you're still here," she mewled. "You and Onii-san, King-sama and even… Chitose-kun." She began to choke on the reflective sentiment. "And Ri-chan and Wolf-kun, Anna-chan, Dewa, Fujishima and Yata and-" Her voice trailed off nervously as she caught the next address in the back of her throat. "A-and now Shōhei…"

"Of course, we are," he reasoned tenderly. "You said you wouldn't even let fate take us away, remember?" As he murmured his words against her hair, his faint smile broadened. He laid his fingers against her crown, gently combing the auburn waves with a reminiscent coo. "Lion-chan… You still have so much red in your hair." He raised a section of the silky strands to his lips and closed his eyes. "You're still burning."

"How did I get so lucky?" she breathed. Her sadness and happiness roughened her tone all at once as it drowned her senses. "To be here in this warm place surrounded by all these kind, brave people with a handsome prince protecting my heart with his smile."

"Ah, but it's not luck." There was whimsy in Tatara's musical tone as he backed away from her and helped her dry her eyes. "Nei-chan fought hard to make this her place. You broke your curse, and now you're making your dream come true. You're protecting people like Sora-chan from suffering as you did."

Neirah rubbed her face to stop her cheeks from flushing so hot with colour. "S-she called me her hero tonight…"

"I'm so proud of you…" Tatara took Neirah's surprised pout between his palms and tipped her brow into his gentle kiss. "Nei-chan is like the burning sun watching over our kingdom."

Her tone softened but remained playful as she began to calm her strained nerves. "Only because I have Tat-chan's bright smile in my heart." She closed her eyes and folded her hands against her chest next to her HOMRA mark. "It's safe here. I won't let anyone take it away from me. This light, King-sama's flame, they keep the cold from creeping back inside. And I never want to feel that way again."

When Tatara offered his hand, Neirah gladly took it, allowing him to spin her around as she danced through their main room. "Nei-chan's flame is too hot for the cold to get in. Anna says it might even be as big as Kings." He figured it might be better to leave out the part about its unstable temperament when she was already feeling down.

Unable to take him seriously, Neirah's smile broadened as she pirouetted back into his arms. "And Tat-chan's smile is far too bright for the dark." After dramatically flopping back into his arms, her glowing expression beamed at him, her misty eyes still sparkling with affection. "We make the perfect team."

Once Neirah was upright again and twirling across the floor, Tatara could hear their song in the beat of his heart, putting the words to the patter of her bare toes bouncing around the apartment like happy raindrops. That was when he realized something important. When Neirah described the tune to him as such, she didn't mean rain from the sky. She referred to joyful tears. It was hope, laughter, love and friendship, a bittersweet sorrow reminding them to cherish those beautiful moments before they were gone, freeze them in their burning hearts so that those smiles kept the light glowing strong. It was a sad warning cautioning people like Neirah that change was inevitable, but as long as they held on to the memories that mattered, everything would work out in the end.

"Tatara?"

_Hm?_ Tatara jolted to attention the moment Neirah rejoined him, her smile sheepish as she held out his guitar between her hands.

"Let's finish it," she whispered. "Right now."

"A happy rain," he whispered lovingly upon receiving the instrument.

"A song that will protect the smile we keep in our hearts."


End file.
